


The Great Ferelden Bake Off

by scatteringmyashes



Series: The Great Ferelden Bake Off [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Puns, Baking, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-06-01 01:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15132305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteringmyashes/pseuds/scatteringmyashes
Summary: Fenris and Hawke are both home bakers who have a lot riding on this competition, but they don't realize what they signed up for. Pining and the smell of baked goods are in the air as Fenris and Hawke mix, knead, and bake their way to the season finale - and maybe love?Tensions - and yeast - will rise as Fenris, Hawke, and the others fight to call themselves Ferelden's Best Baker. Will Hawke ever admit his feelings? Why is Fenris lying about his past? And can someone stop Anders from going on another rant about veganism?There's only one way to find out. Welcome to The Great Ferelden Bake Off.





	1. Breakfast, Bread, Pies

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not British and I don't bake, but my roommate and I have watched the last two seasons of GBBO in the last month so I have a fair idea of how this all works.
> 
> Edit: Art!!!! Thank you to my roommate (who also beta'd and suggested this story) for the art. You can see it [here](https://starryduster.tumblr.com/post/175522670930/welcome-to-the-great-fereldan-bake-off)!
> 
> Edit 2: Officially updating every Sunday. Cheers folks.

A swooping shot over a beautiful green lawn, bringing the camera over the old castle before cutting to a large tent on the grass. Suddenly it shifts, swooping down until a woman and a dwarf are visible in the shot — the woman more than the dwarf. She has a stern expression and a scar on her lip but the dwarf looks delighted to be there. 

“Hello, and welcome to the Great Ferelden Bake Off. We’ve brought together twelve of Ferelden’s best bakers, and this season is quite a cast of characters! Each is an amateur — never professionally trained, but that doesn’t mean our judges will go easy on them. Will they rise to the challenge or fall flat under the pressure?”

“Varric…” 

“Shush, it’s funny, Cassandra.” Varric grins. “This season you’ll see everything from the best begnets to the craziest cakes. We’re talking classic challenges like bread week and whole new ones that’ll have you on the edge of your seats. And every person in this tent wants the title, but only one person can be Ferelden’s best baker. Now, let’s meet our contestants.” 

Cut to a muscular young man, brown skin and dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. 

“Hi, I’m James Hawke and I’m from Lothering. I was raised to be a baker for my family’s bakery, but I ended up going to college for history instead.” He laughs. “I’m here to represent the Hawke family bakery and prove my skills aren’t as rusty as everyone thinks.” 

Transition to a stunning dark-skinned woman, her long hair pushed behind a blue bandana. 

“Hello, my name is Isabela and I’m here to show that a little bit of chocolate and a lot of alcohol makes every bake better.” She winks at the camera and it cuts to a man with a sharply angled jaw who looks like he forgot to shave. 

“My name is Anders, I’m a Ferelden native and I am a completely vegan and cruelty-free baker.” Anders frowns. “My competitors are going to learn why you don’t need to enslave animals to make good bakes!” 

The narration, which is provided by Varric, cuts in as the camera shows upcoming portions from the episode. An elf with silver hair curses in Tevene as he spoons syrup over something not quite visible. A man with short blond hair holds his head in his face and groans. Hawke kneads dough, the camera focusing an uncomfortable amount on the the muscles in his arms. 

“The twelve bakers come from all corners of Ferelden. Some were born here, others immigrated, but what they all have in common is a love of baking. But only the best can succeed. On the Great Ferelden Bake Off, contestants are judged based on taste, presentation, and technical ability. There are three rounds and at the end we crown that week’s best baker and send one home.”

More clips. Finished pieces, but not who made them. An elf with black facial tattoos holding up a tin and listening to it. Anders frantically whisking something while glaring at the silver-haired elf, who is tasting his own batter and then, while making eye contact with Anders, reaching for the eggs. He pointedly selects an egg from the carton which lies in front of a bag of milk, a thing of butter, and truly large chunk of cheese, all used in some manner. 

Cassandra begins speaking, tone a little less droll. “The first round is the signature challenge. We want to see what the bakers do on a day-to-day basis and it provides them a chance to present something they want to make. The second round is the technical challenge. This is set by one of the judges and the contestants do not know what it is ahead of time. They are given a recipe and limited instructions. This is judged blind.” 

“You sound like you’re reading out someone’s obituary,” Varric interrupts as the shot cuts to the two of them standing outside the tent. 

“Quiet, dwarf!” Cassandra clears her throat. “The third round is the showstopper challenge. We want to see the most impressive bakes here, in both appearance and taste.” 

Together: “This is the Great Ferelden Bake Off!”

#

“I think I’m in a good place,” Hawke tells the camera as he pours dough into a waffle iron. “I’ve made waffles a hundred thousand times before for my siblings back home. This is a Hawke family special.” 

At the station behind him, the elf with facial tattoos frowns. “Oh no, I think my batter is unhappy with me.” As she goes to add honey, her voice comes in as a narration. 

“My name is Merrill and I’m here to bring a traditional elven touch to classic Ferelden foods.” The camera presents her standing underneath a tree, a daisy in her hair. There are no daisies on the lawn. No one has any idea how she got one because she doesn’t have it in other clips. She smiles. “I’m so happy to be here and meet other bakers too. I’m sure we’ll all get along wonderfully!” 

Cut back to the tent, where Anders is explaining to the judges what his bake is. 

“Sorry, you said it’s cruelty-free? Can you explain what you mean?” Josephine, one of the judges, asks. 

“I don’t use any animal products in any of my bakes,” Anders tells her. He looks pointedly at the elf at the station in front of him. “All animal products are cruel and they entrap good, innocent animals in a lifetime of servitude.” 

“Your waffles are burning,” the elf calls over. His back is to Anders. There isn’t even anything baking on Anders’ station, but for a split second the panic in Anders’ eyes is real. 

Varric laughs and the judges move on, Leliana taking point as they go to talk to Cullen, the large blond who seems surprisingly anxious considering his tough appearance. The camera shows his plan — he’s baking rosemary waffles with a sweet honey glaze and a bit of bacon, pretty standard Ferelden food.

“My name is Cullen Rutherford and I'm a born and raised Ferelden.” His interview takes place on a bridge. He leans against the railing. “When I'm not baking I help run security for a large firm that I legally can't say the name of.” He laughs nervously and scratches the back of his neck. 

Cassandra’s voice comes in as narration as the camera follows a brown skinned man with russet hair. He has startling blue eyes that are focused on his oven. 

“The first challenge seems like a kitchen staple, but the judges are looking for true creativity with the waffles. The flavors must be bold, inspiring, and above all else, delicious.” 

In the tent, the contestant sighs and glances around. “I’m very nervous about my waffles. I chose not to use an iron but if they burn…” He shrugs. “Well, it is in the Maker’s hands now.” He smiles at the camera. 

At the front of the tent, Varric grins at Cassandra and the judges. “So, where do we even start? This year is quite the cast of characters. In fact, it’s almost like they’re in one of my books, like—”

“You are not promoting your book here,” Cassandra hisses, trying to kick him under the table. She either misses or Varric is so used to being hit that he doesn’t even wince. 

“Let’s talk about the bakers,” Josephine cuts in. 

“Well, I’m intrigued by Hawke,” Varric says, gesturing towards the man in question. “He’s making cream-filled waffles with mint and a sweet honey syrup on top. Difficult in a time sensitive environment, but delicious if done right.” 

“Yes, he said he was raised to take over the family bakery but then left for university. He hasn’t baked this much in years. I’m wondering if he can keep up with the others who bake regularly,” Josephine muses. 

“I think that Anders has a challenge ahead of him,” Leliana, the second judge, points out. “No animal products? That will be hard, especially if he makes it into the later challenges.” 

“But very unique! I don’t think we’ve ever had a vegan baker on before,” Varric replies. The others all nod and there’s a slight lull in conversation. 

The camera shows the contestants at their stations, all in various states of frantic. Isabela’s apron has almost come off and there’s a smudge of dough on her face. Merrill is waving burnt sage around her station while Alistair, another Ferelden native who entered as a dare, is thinly slicing turnips. Why he decided to include turnips with his waffles is a question no one really wanted to ask. 

“What do you think about the elves?” Varric asks, fulfilling his host duties to keep the show interesting and ratings high. “We have three competing, all with very different backgrounds — a true first for the competition.” 

“Well, Sera is a city elf so she has the style closest to traditional Ferelden food,” Leliana says. The camera cuts to Sera, who is muttering something about bees and show-offs and pretentious —. Her last word is censored, but the audience can fill in the blank. 

“What about Merrill? She seems to have a very strong sense of… taste.” Josephine has a polite smile on her face. The camera shows Merrill who is now hand grinding seeds for some unknown use. Her hair has started to fall in her eyes and she keeps blowing strands away, only for them to come back several seconds later. 

“I think Merrill has some bold choices and I hope they work for her,” Leliana replies. “Sera seems to be predictable and a bit stubborn, so that might hurt her later when the challenges call for a bit more creativity.” 

“And what about Fenris?” Varric asks, raising an eyebrow. 

The camera pans over to a silver-haired elf, a black headband keeping his bangs out of his eyes. White splotches of color mark his otherwise brown skin and his sleeves are rolled up as he labors over his bowl. While there is a mixer, he’s chosen to do it by hand. 

Suddenly, the shot shifts to him standing in front of a tree. “My name is Fenris. I grew to love baking when I was very young. I have lived in Ferelden for only a year, but I am honored to have the opportunity to participate in this competition,” he says. His speech is slightly accented and he seems a little uncomfortable, but when the shot returns to him baking that awkwardness is gone. 

The judges both nod slowly. “I find my interest piqued by his style. He is going to be worth keeping an eye on,” Leliana comments. 

In the kitchen, Fenris is at home and his focus is single-minded to the point where he doesn’t even look when Sera drops a jar and begins cursing. The censors block it out and for a solid minute there's nothing but beeping as the other contestants look over in various states of concern. 

“I'm Sera.” Her previous interview is heard while the camera still shows her swearing. “Born and raised in Denerim, baked and cooked for dozens of little folk over the years. I'm here to prove that you don't need a fancy-pants edum'cation to be good.” 

Back under the tent, the other competitors look concerned at the ruckus Sera is making. Fenris has even glanced over, his impeccable concentration shaken. 

“Sera,” Merrill calls to her fellow elf, “Do you want some sage? It sounds like you have a demon at your station.” 

Sera throws a spoon at her. It misses wildly and almost hits Anders in the back, instead bouncing off his counter. He spins around and starts shouting about how this is assault, that he could have been hurt — 

Varric laughs. Cassandra facepalms. She knew she should have gotten that religious studies degree. 

# 

_@the_great_ferelden_bake_off tweeted:_ Who is your favorite baker this season??? Tweet your reply and why! 

_@thatoneguy tweeted:_ this Fenris seems interesting. I wonder what his deal is tho he was frowning the whole ep? 

_@meatisachoice tweeted:_ thank Andraste this season has a vegan baker!!! #TeamAnders 

_@yestruthsteller tweeted:_ is anyone else going to talk about James “call me Hawke because it sounds cooler” Hawke because like… 

_@hawkeguy tweeted:_ Thanks for all the support! Be warned all I tweet about are dragons and sometimes my dog #fereldenboy 

_@belatheboozybaker tweeted:_ Remember to catch me on the Great British Bake Off! Would anyone like a drinking game btw? Got a few ideas ;) 

_@the_great_ferelden_bake_off tweeted:_ Last week we saw waffles, crêpes, and lace pancakes. What's in store this week? Catch the next episode live this Wednesday at 8pm PST! 

#

“Last week, we had to send Wynne home after a bold choice with crêpes resulted in an unfortunate end.” Previous clips of Wynne, an older woman, nodding as the judges give their decision. The others go to hug her and goodbyes are exchanged. “But the competition is just heating up. Who will taste victory and who will crumble in defeat?” Varric and Cassandra stand outside the large tent. Together: “Welcome to the Great Ferelden Bake Off.” 

The contestants are brought to the tent. An interview with Anders plays through the audio. 

“Yes, well, I'm a little disappointed with how the last challenge went but I'm confident that week two will be better. I just need to show the judges why I'm the best.” 

As they all line up, a clip with Merrill plays. She is wearing a green jumper and has a smile on her face. 

“I think that I did well last time and I hope I can continue to make my clan proud. I really just want to show people how diverse elven food can be and hopefully learn a few things myself.” 

A quick aerial shot of the tent before it shows underneath, the remaining contestants line up behind their stations. Fenris is wearing a black beanie and a nice — if a bit ill-fitting — button-up while Hawke yawns in the background. Anders looks like someone has given him a lemon to suck. 

The judges step forward. Josephine is taking advantage of the nice weather to don a dress while Leliana has stuck with a pants suit. Varric seems to be showing more chest hair than usual, but it's hard to tell. Not for the first time, it looks a little bit like Cassandra wants to murder him. 

“Hello, bakers. Today your challenge incorporates sugar, spice, and everything nice — like yeast. Yes, welcome to bread week.” Varric has a grin on his face even as everyone groans. Hawke looks positively delighted. Varric claps his hands together. “Hopefully you don't feel tempted to _loaf_ around because you'll _knead_ to be at your very best.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes. “Bakers, the judges would first like you to present us with three different herb breads. They want bold flavors and delicious bakes — plus at least one jam to go on top. Ready. Get set… bake!” 

Immediately the contestants spring into action. Supplies and materials get put on the counter while several squint at recipes. Anders seems to know what he's doing but Merrill is already a step ahead and measuring out ingredients. 

“I use all sorts of spices in my bakes back with the clan,” she explains while a camera focuses on her. She offers it a smile. “This one is a recipe I brought with me from the clan, so I better get it right.” 

Cut to Isabela, who has several bottles at her station, three of which are alcoholic in nature. “Listen, I'm not a huge user of spices personally but I've got white bread behind me and vegan in front of me so I'm digging down to my roots here and I'm gonna make my Mama proud.” 

Hawke is measuring out flour, a bundle of freshly cut herbs by the side of his bowl. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as he reaches for the butter. An interview begins to play and we see him standing by a pond.

“It was pretty scary to be at the bottom the first week. I hope that the challenges become a bit more taste-centric and a little less, uh, Orlesian.” He laughs, a booming and warm sound that seems to reverberate in his chest. 

“So, Hawke,” Varric says in the present day as the judges walk up to his station, “What can the judges look forward to from you?” 

“Hello! I am making three kinds of bread: a rosemary and thyme bread, a basil bread, and a garlic bread. And I'll have three different sauces as well.” He pauses to wipe at his forehead. “Bread was my job at the family bakery back when I was a teen.” There is an ungodly amount of dough at his station and the judges question him lightly before moving on to the person behind him. 

Sebastian is making garlic bread, basil bread, and a special blend of spices that comes from a Starkhaven recipe. He cites his grandfather as inspiration. Already, the contestants are split between the ones who seem to mention their family every possible chance — Sebastian, Hawke, Fenris, and Merrill if one counts her clan — while the others don't mention family at all. The judges talk with each contestant before the shot goes to focus on Fenris. 

“I use many spices from Tevinter, but they can be strong if you are not used to them, so I need to be cautious and not overwhelm the judges,” he explains as he kneads his dough. “But I am in a strong position. I was surprised to be towards the top last time and hopefully I will continue to meet their expectations.” 

He offers a small smile at the camera. In the background, Hawke flushes and almost cuts his own finger off. 

#

 _@beebeebeebee posted:_ I am so excited for the new season!!!! Look at all the elves!!! 

[A gifset of Fenris in the latest episode. He's smiling in one gif]  
_@gfbogifs posted:_ Elves of season 9: Fenris Liberati 

_@thatoneguy reblogged and added:_ okay I take it back his smile is 10/10 would stan again 

_@yestruthsteller posted:_ not to be THAT person but did anyone else see Hawke’s reaction to Fenris smiling??? 

_@whosaidiwassmart replied:_ but he couldn’t have seen Fenris’s smile so??? why is he blushing???

 _@yestruthsteller replied:_ I’m just glad he didn’t cut his finger off! 

#

“I have no idea what a dampfnudel is except it sounds kind of intimidating and very much not Ferelden,” Hawke admits to the camera. He is working on his dough, sweat breaking out on his face and arms. The camera is still uncomfortably attracted to his arms. In their defense, Hawke has very good arms. 

“Do you think that I should add the ingredients all together or separate them out?” Merrill asks the air.

Isabela considers the recipe and frowns. “I don't think I can add alcohol to this one. A shame, because everything is better with it and I know Varric is a fan.” She winks at the camera. 

Anders seems to be having a moral crisis. The recipe includes more egg, cream, and milk than some grocery stores have in stock. He'll figure it out in a bit. 

Fenris seems to be the only one who isn't having a panic over the technical. He calmly goes about adding the ingredients and mixing them together before putting it in a bowl to prove. He wipes his hands on his apron before getting to work on the sauce. 

“I have made this before,” he tells the camera. “I only did it once or twice, but I have an excellent memory.” His eyebrows furrow in concentration as he measures out milk and cream. “Sauces are simple, but unforgiving. I cannot mess this up.” 

“I don't care what a drunk noodle is and I'm not gonna care,” Sera says to the camera as it changes shots. She's furiously mixing something in a bowl. “But I'm gonna make the best drunk noodles these judges have ever seen!” 

The pressure rises on the bakers as the time passes and the bread has to be steamed. Fenris sets his timer and waits, a look of utmost focus hitting him. Anders has resolved his moral crisis by using vegan ingredients, hoping his bakes are solid even if the consistencies are rough. 

Hawke looks particularly worried. The shot shifts to him in front of a tree. His hair is coming loose from its ponytail. 

“I'm the bread guy. If I don't do well during bread week, my sister is going to kill me — if my mother doesn't first!” 

Under the tent, several bakers go to check on their dampfnudel. Sera lifts the lid and a huge wave of steam rolls off. Hawke paces back and forth before shaking his head and reaching for his lid. 

Fenris is suddenly next to his counter and stops. Hawke freezes, mind flashing to every time he's awkwardly stared a little too long at Fenris, who just so happens to be a few stations ahead and to the left of Hawke’s. It isn’t Hawke’s fault if Fenris is perfectly within sightlines… Right? 

“Your dampfnudel has been in there how long?” Fenris asks. 

“Uh, like 15 minutes?” 

“You need more time.” Fenris keeps walking to the fridge, where he intends to put his sauces. Hawke stops himself from asking why. 

The exchange is caught by cameras but Aveline later, while editing the footage, decides that it's not very important. Hawke came in fifth and Fenris in fourth that episode, so neither of them absolutely smashed it. So she only includes the look Hawke gives Fenris as he walks away, completely oblivious to the fact that Hawke is in love with him and his ability to mix dough by hand.

# 

“So what do you think next week is gonna be?” Hawke asks the others as they all wait to hear back from the technical challenge. He’s feeling pretty good about that week. His bread was a big hit so even if he doesn't get a great place in the technical, it's unlikely that he’ll be kicked off. Also his finger is feeling a lot better now that the first-aid team has been able to bandage it up properly. 

“As long as it is not more of this pretentious shit, I'm good,” Isabela gripes. She leans back in her chair, playing with a lock of hair. “I can do Ferelden and Rivain. I can even do Antivian and some Marcher stuff. But this is Orlesian garbage.” 

“I don't know, it's really making things more interesting! I hope that my dough doesn't get me eliminated though,” Merrill replies. She bites her lip and smiles at Sera. “What do you think about the challenges, Sera?” 

Sera spits on the grass and scowls. “Buncha nug-humping bullshit! I don't even know what this stupid saffri-thingy is.” She crosses her arms. Merrill lets out a soft oh. 

“Well you don't have to act like a child just because you don't know what something is,” Anders tells her. “But I suppose I shouldn't expect someone who keeps and enslaves bees to act mature.” 

“You do know that bees benefit far more from honey farms than they lose?” Fenris asks, raising an eyebrow. His fingers are wrapped around a water bottle, his apron hanging loosely in front of his simple black sweater. 

“Bees deserve to be kept free from human interference! The nerve of people to keep animals for their own benefit is cruel and—” 

Fenris jumps as Isabela nudges him, knocking shoulders with him. She smiles, ignoring Anders entirely as she asks how he started baking. 

“Oh. My, uh, mother taught me. When I was very young.” Fenris glances at his fingers. There’s still a bit of dough and he brushes it off on his apron. “Where did you learn?” 

“My Mama taught me too, but recently it’s just been me and my blog.” Isabela flips her hair over her shoulder. “You know, you and I could do some good team-ups.” 

“... A team-up?” Fenris questions. 

“Yeah! Where do you live? You can come visit, bake with me, that sort of thing. People love when I bring on guests and it’d get you more fans too!” Isabela beams. Anders is still complaining about the injustice of the honey industry. Sera’s making faces at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. 

“I… do not have a blog. Nor do I care much for popularity,” Fenris says slowly. 

“But you’re on a baking show!” Isabela blurts out. Fenris shrugs. 

“You’re awfully talented,” Hawke comments. He tugs a little on the bandage wrapped around his finger. It probably is going to need to be changed before he heads home. “How long have you been baking?”

Fenris shrugs. Hawke forces himself to look away from the beautiful elf. 

“Personally, I hope that next week is cakes. I’ve always loved baking cakes,” Sebastian says. He smiles at the others. His hair is slicked back except for a few strands that have come loose. It shines almost red in the Ferelden afternoon sun. “Do you think they'll want classics or something more experimental?” 

“If they want a sponge, they are out of luck,” Hawke admits. “I'm trash at anything delicate.” 

“But you're talented!” Anders interrupts his monologue about bees — which Sera was replying to under her breath — to stare at Hawke with wide eyes. Fenris feels his stomach twist. “You made such impressive bread this time. I'm sure your technical went well.” Anders reaches out to put a hand on Hawke’s arm, but Hawke moves at the last second. 

He crosses his arms and shrugs, looking a bit bashful. “I haven't really made much that isn't bread for a while. I guess you could say I really _knead_ the dough.” He grins. Fenris chuckles. Everyone else groans except for Anders, who forces a laugh. 

“You're so funny, Hawke. I'm glad I got to meet—” 

“Contestants, the judges are ready for you back at the tent,” Aveline, the photography lead and general person wrangler, tells them. 

“Here it goes!” Hawke says, leaping to his feet. He grins at Fenris. “May the best baker win.” 

“I'm sure they will.” Fenris hesitates. “And Hawke — do not expect me to help you again.” He leaves Hawke to think about that. 

#

 _@the_great_ferelden_bake_off tweeted:_ Two down and ten to go! Are you ready for cake week??? 

_@meatisachoice tweeted:_ Good on Anders for sticking to his morals! You show those other bakers that cruelty is not a winning strategy. #TeamAnders

 _@hawkeguy tweeted:_ Not thrilled w/ bread week but promise the home stuff is better. If you want your own loaf, you can order one at hawkefamilybakery.fer/order 

[A gifset of episode two focusing largely on Hawke]  
_@gfbogifs posted:_ Season 9, Episode 2: Bread Week 

_@yesthrustteller reblogged and added:_ still can’t believe Hawke almost cut his own finger off over a smile 

_@theoneguy reblogged and added:_ but it is a *very* good smile

_@yestruthsteller liked this post_

#

Varric and Cassandra stand in front of an old oak tree. The shadow covers most of Cassandra’s torso and just barely brushes the top half of Varric’s face. He grins at the camera. 

“The dough has been kneaded, the waffles flipped — but what about a good Ferelden classic? Today on the Great Ferelden Bake Off, our contestants are going to need to prove they are truly the best Ferelden has to offer. It’s pie week.”

Sebastian stands in front of a tree, its shadow cast partially over his head and face. “Aye, it was nice to be star baker, but it’s a little nerve-wracking now.” He laughs. “I just have to prove that it wasn’t a fluke!”

“I’m a little bitter that I wasn’t star baker,” Hawke admits, his voice coming over as a narration as the contestants walk into the tent. Sera is missing, having been eliminated last week for sub-par drunk noodle and too much spice in her showstopper. “But Sebastian is a good baker. I just have to beat him this week.” 

The shot changes to Alistair standing in a grassy lawn, sheep behind him. “Pies? Pies are easy,” Alistair says with a laugh. “I’m _Ferelden._ We grow up on all kinds of pies.” 

Another aerial shot of the tent appears, seamlessly descending to the tent itself. 

The judges and hosts stand at the front as the contestants take their places, doning aprons and getting ready to begin. Each has time to practice the signature and showstopper challenge during the week, which means most of the nerves at the beginning of the day are bakers just wanting to get started and not fear of the unknown. 

That comes later in the day. 

“Hello, bakers. Welcome to pie week,” Cassandra announces. She and Varric are inverse of each other — while Cassandra has a black suit jacket on top of a white button-up and black slacks, Varric is wearing almost gaudy white slacks and a pale pink suit jacket. If he’s wearing a shirt underneath, it’s not visible — but with the amount of chest hair, it’s hardly necessary for him to wear a shirt. Well, besides television censors. 

“Today we’re looking for the most scrumptious crusts, the best savory and sugary fillings, and of course anything that blows our judges away.” Varric grins. “For your signature challenge, we would like you to make a dozen savory pies. Six must include a protein — or protein substitute — and the other six must include a vegetable.” 

Together, he and Cassandra speak. “Get ready… Bake!” 

Fenris leaps for his ingredients, measuring them all out and beginning to mix dough as quickly as possible. 

“Bread week was more of a challenge than I anticipated,” he admits in an interview in front of a pond. “I disappointed myself by letting my signature bake burn a little. I cannot let that happen again.” 

“People always think that you need really heavy savory dishes,” Isabela says as she pours a shot of vodka. “But honestly, light and fluffy is the way to go.” She downs the shot and grins at the camera. “This? This is for the pie.” She gestures to the almost full bottle of vodka and laughs at the camera. 

“So Cassandra,” Varric asks his co-host, “I think the competition is really starting to heat up. What are you looking forward to?” 

“Well, I think bread week separated the group into those who are comfortable here and those who still need to find their footing. I think we were all surprised with the uncharacteristic mistakes by Fenris last round,” she replies. 

“Yes, I was disappointed in his signature bake. Some parts were burnt and others were entirely uncooked,” Josephine cuts in. She’s wearing a beautiful blue sundress with a gold sash around the waist and she looks excited about the contest. “I’m looking forward to what Hawke makes. His bread was some of the best we’ve ever had and I feel like this week has a strong theme for him.” 

“Shall we go ask them what they’re making?” Varric asks, standing out of his chair. 

Leliana smiles and nods. “I think we should. It will be nice to see what to expect.” 

“Hello, Fenris,” Josephine says as she and the others walk over to his station. “What are you making for us today?” 

“I will be making six savory bacon and white cheddar pies with apple and six parsnip and mushroom pot pies.” Fenris listens to the two judges point out their concerns and answers a few questions, though most of his attention is clearly on his bake. When one of them asks if he’s going to serve anything burnt, he gives them a wry smile. “No, I intend on watching these pies like a hawk.” 

From the other side of the tent, Hawke lets out a caw. Isabela groans, Sebastian stares at him, and Fenris cracks a genuine grin before coughing and returning to baking. 

#

 _@sunshinegirl tweeted:_ I can’t believe my brother is actually using my mince meat pie recipe!!! @hawkeguy I see you there.

 _@thatoneguy tweeted:_ sucks that Sera is gone but hey at least Merrill and Fenris are still there #elvesrepresent

 _@the_great_ferelden_bake_off tweeted:_ Do YOU want to bake like one of our best? Check out our website where we’ve got all the best recipes from all six seasons — including the current one! 

_@serawasnever tweeted:_ in case any of u were curious: yes anders is like that in person 

#

“Okay, okay, never have I ever… burnt a wedding cake,” Isabela says. She laughs as Hawke, Sebastian, and Cullen all put a finger down. “Your turn,” she reminds Merrill. 

“Oh! Is it really? I feel like I just went.” Merrill laughs and waves a hand in the air. “Sorry, I just keep thinking about how my pies were flat. It’s very distracting. What if I go home?” 

“You won’t go home,” Isabela says at the same time as Hawke says, “Well mine fell flat too.” Isabela gives Hawke a look and he shrugs, but Merrill doesn’t seem to be paying much attention anyways.

“What about you, Anders? You had trouble with your pies, didn’t you?” It’s a genuine question but he seems annoyed and snaps at her before mumbling about how meat is corrupting everyone’s souls. 

“Yes, blame all your problems on the meat industry. That makes so much sense,” Fenris drawls. He leans back in his chair, content to wait the judging out. At this point everything is quite literally out of his hands. 

Everyone goes silent as Anders even realizes no one is paying attention to him and shuts up. Finally, after about five minutes: 

“Your clan must be very proud of you,” Merrill says. There’s more silence. “Fenris?” 

He glances at her. “I do not have a clan. I am not Dalish.” 

“Oh. But you must have some family.”

“I — yes.” He hesitates, glancing to and from the others. The cameras are off and the crews are sitting a ways away — he can spot Aveline laughing at something Donnic says. But his fingers twitch and he feels his gut twist. “My mother. I imagine she is proud of me. But she is in Tevinter and I — I haven’t been able to talk to her.”

“Oh, that’s horrible! Does she not have a phone?” Merrill asks. 

“She is very — busy. She doesn’t have much time.” 

“Do you have any siblings, Merrill?” Isabela cuts in, leaning closer to Merrill and giving her an easy grin. Merrill starts talking about the clan and the center of attention is blessedly away from Fenris. 

He lets out a soft sigh before jolting up and glancing at Hawke, who has an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry,” Hawke says, though he doesn’t look all that sorry for poking Fenris in the arm. “You just look like you were a little tired there. Can’t have you falling asleep now.” 

“Oh.” Fenris isn’t sure how to respond, so he just nods. “Thank you, Hawke.”

“Call me James.” A look passes over Hawke’s — James’s? — face before he looks back at the rest of the group. “Okay, enough interrogating one another. Whose turn was it — oh, right, Cullen.”

“Eh? Oh, right. Never have I ever… failed a meringue test.” 

Anders put a finger down. So do Hawke and Isabela, who laughs. 

“Well, you know if you add too much alcohol…” She trails off as everyone else groans. Fenris smiles and settles back in his chair. 

#

 _@the_great_ferelden_bake_off tweeted:_ shortbread and chocolate and sugar oh my! This week is biscuit week with a brand new technical challenge that’s going to have our contestants’ heads in a whirl.

 _@meatisachoice tweeted:_ I don’t get why ppl like Fenris so much? He’s rude and condescending and he’s not even that cute :/ #TeamAnders

 _@thatoneguy replied:_ at least Fenris isn’t a pretentious douche ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 _@fenrisdefensesquad replied:_ Excuse you, Fenris is the best part of #gfbo and if you don’t believe me you can #gtfo 

_@belatheboozybaker tweeted:_ It’s the collab all of you have been asking for! This week’s guest is Fenris, my friend and fellow competitor on #GFBO. We’re making his signature bacon and white cheddar pies as seen on the show 1/2 

_@belatheboozybaker tweeted:_ And we’re going to drink and talk about our favorite parts of #GFBO so far! You don’t want to miss it 2/2


	2. Interlude: Fenris Liberati

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My roommate drew [art!](https://starryduster.tumblr.com/post/175522670930/welcome-to-the-great-fereldan-bake-off) Check it out and give them tons of support because they're amazing <3

“You have a very nice home,” Fenris says as he walks into Isabela’s flat, taking his shoes off at the door. She grins and waves a hand, almost knocking over a hat stand that holds no less than three magnificent pirate hats. Fenris doesn’t ask, just follows Isabela as she explains that she shares the place with two roommates and that's the only way she can afford the place. 

“But they know not to bother me when I’m filming,” Isabela adds. “You’ve never done anything like this before, have you?” 

“Never. I have little interest in it, but I appreciate the offer.” Fenris can’t help but glance into rooms as they walk down the hall. It looks like there’s a messy office, a front room, and then someone’s bedroom — the door is open and a blond elf with dark skin and a face tattoo is doing his nails. Overall, the flat is homey. Welcoming. A bit messy for Fenris’s tastes but he knows that he's not typical in that regard. 

As they walk, Isabela explains how everything is going to work. Fenris already has the gist since she sent him a lengthy text, but he appreciates the reminders. They head towards the back of the flag and Isabela grins. 

“Welcome to my workspace, a.k.a my kitchen,” she says. It’s small but well-lit and there’s already several cameras set up. She also has all the supplies that Fenris told her to get, though he’s provided his own apples. 

“Anything last minute questions?” She asks. Fenris shakes his head. “I’m so excited about this. You’re the number one requested collab ever since the bake off started.” Isabela laughs when she sees Fenris raise his eyebrow. “Yeah, I let my followers suggest people I should collab with and almost all of them wanted to see you and me bake. The others thought Hawke would be fun, but he lives so far away.” She shrugs. 

“I admit I am surprised. I have no social media and there is little interesting about me,” Fenris confesses. Isabela rolls her eyes. 

“Oh please, with the way you look you’d need to wear a bag on your head for people not to notice you.” She doesn’t comment on the way Fenris shuffles back and forth, a little embarrassed by the open praise. “Okay, get into the kitchen and let me turn the cameras on. And remember, I can edit everything so if you say or do something you don’t want included, just let me know.” 

Fenris nods and goes to the kitchen, setting his bag down and pulling out a bag of green apples. His stomach twists a little, but he finds it easy to smile as Isabela turns the camera on and joins him. She has a natural comfort and he can tell that she's really turning up the charm once the cameras are rolling. It's interesting, actually, because she doesn't try nearly as hard during the actual show as she does for her own. 

“Hello my boozy bakers, and welcome to this episode of Bela Bakes! Today’s special guest is,” she turns to Fenris and gestures to him, “Fenris! That’s right, _the_ Fenris Liberati from Bake Off! Today we’ll be making his _absolutely_ amazing cheddar and bacon pies, just like on the show. Now, Fenris’s social media links will be down in the description — or they would if he had any!” 

“I would use it if I found a point to it,” Fenris tells her, lips lifting in a half-smile as Isabela pouts. “Perhaps I’ll make a Twitter after this.” 

“You better. Anyways, tell us a little bit about the recipe. What inspired you to make this on Bake Off?”

“Well, I am a fan of apples and there are few flavors that go better with apple than cheese and bacon. The filling requires concentration and a good sense of timing, but when done correctly there is nothing more delicious…”

#

 _@belatheboozybaker tweeted:_ Recording the episode with Fenris today! Excited to finally see him off-set and gossip about our favorite parts of #gfbo!

 _@fenrisdefensesquad tweeted:_ Pumped to see the best elf in Ferelden with the most beautiful baker.

 _@meatismurder tweeted:_ I can’t believe that Fenris is considered more popular than Anders… and people claim to have morals #TeamAnders

 _@thatoneguy replied:_ Shut the fuck up 

_@fenrisdefensesquad liked this tweet_

#

After they bake the pies — which takes much longer than on the bake off, partially because Isabela breaks out the wine about halfway through and keeps up a constant stream of conversation — the two go to the couch to take a break. Fenris is covered in flour and grease from the baker and Isabela has a bit of a wine stain on her shirt after Fenris accidentally elbowed her glass. Despite feeling exhausted and having talked more in the last few hours than the last few months, Fenris is content. 

No, he’s happy. He’s actually surprisingly happy. Not that he thought he’d _hate_ being a guest on Isabela’s show, but he didn’t think he’d enjoy it quite so much. 

“So once your pies are done we’ll take them out, let them cool a little, and then eat them as we film the next part,” Isabela explains.

“Oh yes. You wished to discuss the show.” Fenris rolls his shoulders and settles back against the couch. “Was there anything in particular?” 

“Well, I wanted to ask about how you feel about the other competitors. And, of course, what you want next week to be.” Isabela taps her bottom lip. “There’s a _lot_ of questions my followers sent in, but most of them aren’t very interesting — a lot of them want to know more about you, though.” 

Fenris knew this was coming, but for some reason he’s still unprepared. He is quiet for a minute as he tries to decide what to say. “I… am not all that interesting.” 

Isabela gives him a look. “We talked about this and you know that’s not true. You’re far more interesting than Cullen or Sebastian. Though, I would like to see him drunk one day. Sebastian, that is. Do you ever feel like he’s a man who knows how to have a good time?” 

The last conversation Fenris had with Sebastian had been over Chantry politics, so he can’t really agree. He decides, instead, to ignore the question entirely. “You already know about me. I was born in Tevinter and my mother is still there. I moved here in order to pursue more academic opportunities.” It comes easily, the lies, and Fenris doesn’t quite have it in him to feel bad. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you have some fancy degree?” Isabela makes a face that’s over-exaggerated on purpose and Fenris chuckles even as he shakes his head. “Good, now I don’t feel so bad about dropping out.” 

“I believe Hawke and Sebastian are the only ones who have university degrees,” Fenris says. 

“Really? I knew Sebastian had one and Hawke talks about his all the time, but I’m surprised the others don’t.” Isabela leans back. “Hm, I suppose it makes sense. Can you imagine Merrill in a classroom? She’d be talking to the pencils and trying to convince people their books were cursed!” 

“A better alternative than _Anders,_ I assume. He would have been thrown out for arguing with the first person to eat a ham sandwich in front of him.” 

Isabela snorts. “Maker, did you see his face when you took out that slab of bacon? I thought he was going to murder you.” 

“He has given me many faces before. They keep me entertained when I am waiting for my bakes.” Fenris gives Isabela a wry smile. “I did not really need a dozen eggs, but they made the pies more light so I cannot complain.”

“Oh Fenris, you sly dog!” Isabela goes to give Fenris a friendly slap on the shoulder — no real force behind it, just for fun — but she stops. Fenris swallows, hoping that she doesn’t ask about the brief look of fear he knows just appeared in his eyes. He’s usually much better at hiding his expressions. It must be the wine, throwing him off his equilibrium. “Sometimes I wonder how you can stand having your station so close to his, but you certainly make it entertaining.” 

“What about you? You are near Hawke. That must be enjoyable.” Fenris keeps his expression neutral but he can see the gleam in Isabela’s eyes. 

“Hawke is so interesting, really. I have no idea how he thinks up his puns or where he gets his good mood — though the flannel is a bit much. You two should talk more. He seems _very_ interested in you. What about your feelings, Fenris? Do you want to get to know him better?” It’s suggestive on multiple levels and Fenris briefly debates answering properly, blurring the truth, or lying his ass off. “You know, he asked me if he had a shot at getting your phone number.”

“I do not know if I should be insulted or flattered,” Fenris replies, again sidestepping the issue at hand. “Does he have concerns about asking me for it?” 

“Well, he seemed to think you might not like him.” Isabela laughs at the face Fenris makes. “So you do like him!”

“Yes, but not in the way you are implying.” It’s not the first lie he's said today and he doubts it will be the last. 

Fenris falls silent as one of Isabela’s roommates — the one with the face tattoo — wanders out in nothing but a bathrobe. He goes to the kitchen and grabs a carton of takeout and waves as he leaves.

“You have strange friends.” 

“I’m friends with you, aren’t I?” Isabela asks. 

“I… yes. I suppose so.” Fenris did just bake in her kitchen for almost four hours. If that isn’t friendship, he doesn’t know what is. 

“Now, about Hawke…” 

Fenris groans and reconsiders his previous statement.

#

“So, Fenris,” Isabela practically purs, curled up on the couch with a glass of wine in one hand and a half-eaten pie in front of her, “I have a few questions that my supporters are just dying to get answered.” She holds up a series of notecards. “Ready?”

Fenris is drinking water with his pie and he feels much more prepared after Isabela went over everything with him. He nods and pretends to think when the first question, as he expected, is about his least favorite part of Bake Off. 

“And people can count too,” Isabela adds. Fenris snorts and gives the answer that everyone and their mother no doubt expects. Isabela laughs. “Yes, well, your station is right next to his. I imagine that causes some… disagreements?” 

“He acts like I am murdering someone every time I crack an egg or use milk. I am fine with vegans, however his insistence that I adhere to his beliefs is… aggravating.” Fenris gives Isabela a wry smile. “But enough about him. What is the next question?”

Isabela asks him about his favorite food — apple pie — and his favorite things to do besides baking — read and go on long walks. He speaks a little bit about growing up in Tevinter as an elf, though he carefully avoids any mention of names or locations and lies several times. If Isabela notices, she doesn’t say anything. He admits that he went to university for a short time before money grew too tight and he had to pick up a job — a call center worker, much to Isabela’s amusement — but someday he hopes to go back. 

“What do you want to get your degree in?” Isabela asks. She’s put the cards down by now and the questions come naturally instead. Fenris feels like he’s just having a conversation with a friend, except for the camera pointed at them. Her wine glass — which has been refilled a.few times — sits by her empty plate. 

“Linguistics and history. I… was planning on being a double major,” Fenris admits. Isabela whistles. 

“Color me impressed. Charming, intelligent, and beautiful — do you understand why I can’t believe you’re single?” She laughs and Fenris rolls his eyes, but he has a small smile on his face and he can’t bring himself to be that annoyed. “But okay, okay, I have to ask — besides me, who’s your favorite person on Bake Off?”

“Hawke.” It comes out embarrassingly fast and Fenris feels himself flush. 

Isabela doesn’t sound offended. She’s laughing so hard that, for a moment, Fenris is concerned that she’s about to fall off the couch. Fenris pouts and swipes her glass of wine, downing it and hoping that this doesn’t make the final cut. 

“Oh by the Maker — sorry, I just — whew!” Isabela wipes at her eyes. “I should be offended that I’m not your favorite, but Hawke is rather attractive, isn’t he? Besides, he’s constantly feeding you his extras…” 

Somehow, Fenris manages to flush even more. He has vivid flashbacks to pie week, where Hawke had some extra apple and pork pot pies and gave them out to the other bakers. “Not just me,” Fenris argues, “Hawke is a generous man.”

“Mhmm, very generous. And so muscular…” 

“Isa- _bela,_ ” Fenris says. Isabela waves a hand as she laughs. 

“Okay, okay, besides Hawke and me, who else do you like?” She sees Fenris’s hesitation and continues, “Don’t worry, I’ll cut this from the video. I’m just curious.” 

“You’ve had too much to drink,” Fenris points out. 

“I once outdrank a Qunari over a book, I’m _fine,_ ” she insists. 

Fenris rolls his eyes but thinks about her question. Obviously he does like Isabela and Hawke a great deal, though in very different ways — not to say Isabela isn’t attractive and probably a very good date, she just isn’t Hawke — but there are some other competitors Fenris gets along with. He would say he has a healthy respect for Cullen, who is a solid baker if a bit nervous about the competition. Sebastian is a good conversationalist. 

Merrill, Alistair, and several of the others move into Fenris’s tentative good graces by virtue of not being Anders, which in Fenris’s mind is a positive quality in of itself. He explains all of this to Isabela, who nods along with a thoughtful expression on her face. 

“You know,” she says once he finishes, “I think that Sebastian might have a crush on you, if the whole Hawke thing doesn't—”

“ _Bela!_ ” 

This time, Isabela does laugh so hard that she falls off the couch. 

#

 _@applestoapples tweeted:_ So @belatheboozybaker has convinced me to make a Twitter

 _@belatheboozybaker retweeted and added:_ Hey @hawkeguy @maninwhite @daisychain and all my other lovely followers, go give Fenris some love!

 _@hawkeguy tweeted:_ Welcome to twitter @applestoapples! Prepare for nonstop photos about dogs and dragons and bread  >:D

 _@belatheboozybaker replied:_ Did you seriously just use that face? 

_@hawkeguy replied:_ Yeah so? You got a problem with my man?  >:/ 

_@belatheboozybaker replied:_ *sigh* 

_@maninwhite tweeted:_ Hello @applestoapples! Please ignore them, the rest of us are quite normal. 

_@daisychain replied:_ oh, I don’t know about that. Just the other day, Anders said I was a heathen. 

_@maninwhite replied:_ I would not listen to Anders about this, Merrill. 

_@applestoapples liked this tweet_


	3. Biscuits, Cake, Alternate Ingredients

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter this time! Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> P.S., there's a very specific reference in Varric's twitter conversation. If you figure it out, comment and if you got it right then I've got a treat for you. Here's a hint: it's in the twitter handles.

“I am baking six cinnamon shortbread biscuits and six chocolate swirl biscuits,” Fenris explains to the judges. His hair is pushed out of his eyes by a black headband and he’s wearing a loose purple T-Shirt and jeans, nothing fancy. 

Josephine smiles warmly at him. “Nothing apple for us today?” She asks, tone just on the edge of teasing. 

A small smile graces Fenris’s face. Behind him, Anders is scowling at his mixing bowl. A few strands of hair have fallen out of Anders’ ponytail and, as he leans down to get on eye level with his bowl, threaten to fall into the mix. 

“I am using apple butter for both doughs. Hopefully that will satisfy you?” Fenris replies. Josephine nods and she and Leliana lightly question him further before moving on. The camera switches to look at Sebastian, who is making traditional Starkhaven shortbread cookies and chocolate chip cookies. 

“I think we all underestimated Fenris,” Sebastian’s voice says. He’s consulting his mixer and getting ready to portion out dough, but the shot shifts to an interview earlier that day. His white button-up is pristine — he always goes home with a few stains on his shirt, no matter how careful he is — and he looks significantly less concerned. “He seemed to have very little experience, and he struggled in previous parts of the competition, but he did rather well last week.” 

In the tent itself, the judges walk over to Merrill. One of her earlier interviews begins playing. She has a flower crown made up of colorful flowers not seen in the gardens. At this point, no one is surprised. “I think Fenris and Sebastian are the best. But the others are all very good too!” Merrill smiles at the camera. “I’m just glad to be here, really. My clan is very proud of me.” 

Back in the tent, Merrill is lacking her flower crown but her biscuit dough is already placed on a sheet. “I’m baking lavender and peach biscuits with honey spread and mint with orange zest,” she tells the judges. 

“Get your murder dough off my station!” Anders screeches from across the tent. The cameras all turn to look at him. He’s brandishing a spoon at Fenris, who looks less intimidating than he could be considering he’s holding a tray of biscuits and has a bit of dough smeared on his cheek. 

“It is not — that is a miniscule amount,” Fenris complains, nodding at the little bit of dough that somehow made its way from Fenris’s station to Anders’s. 

“It’s murder dough and I will not have it contaminating my cruelty free dough,” Anders insists. 

“I don’t know if Fenris murdered anyone to make that,” Hawke says. Instinctually, Alistair winces and Isabela gives Hawke a look. Hawke either ignores her or doesn’t notice as he commits, saying, “But I’d kill for some dough.” Groans fill the entire back half of the tent and even Anders, who is still arguing with Fenris, stops his diatribe to roll his eyes. 

Fenris snorts and then crosses his newly empty arms — the tray now in the oven — as he glares at Anders. 

“You cannot even prove that my dough is on your station. You are an absolutely filthy baker — I have never seen a workplace as messy as yours. Where did you learn? A sewer?” 

“At least I’m actually Ferelden!” 

Aveline, seeing the frantic look Varric is giving her, decides to temporarily turn off the cameras. In post production, the argument is cut off a little earlier to make Anders seem a little less racist.

#

At the start of every signature bake judgement, the judges begin with the front of the tent. Josephine finds the shape of Sebastian’s biscuits more interesting than the flavors and Blackwall, who is behind Sebastian, burnt his a little too much to be ignored. 

Fenris seems… not nervous, but on edge when the judges come to him. Still, he manages to nod politely at them and stays silent as they taste his biscuits. Fenris keeps his hands behind his back, face as blank as he can manage. 

“Hm…” Leliana chews thoughtfully, swallowing and setting the rest of the biscuit down. “I think the cinnamon is a little strong. I would have liked to have more apple butter, perhaps, to cut how dry the biscuit is.”

“I agree,” Josephine says. “However, I think your chocolate swirl was very brave and quite delicious — but still a little crumbly for my taste.” 

“Well, I love my biscuits crumbly,” Varric chimes in, taking another for good measure. Cassandra snorts but doesn’t say anything. 

“Thank you,” Fenris replies, taking the judges’ feedback to heart and cursing his decision not to include more butter. More apple always makes things better. He keeps his face blank as the judges go to Anders, who has a smug look on his face that Fenris would love to wipe off. 

Preferably with his fist. 

“Did you find this challenge difficult at all?” Cassandra asks, picking up one of the vegan chocolate and lavender biscuits. 

“Yes. Well, actually, no. I had very little difficulty besides the attempted sabotage by certain competitors,” Anders informs them. 

Leliana’s eyebrows shoot up. “You feel that you were sabotaged?” 

“Well — attempted sabotage.” Anders blushes a little, crossing his arms as the judges take bites out of his vegan biscuits. “Someone,” Anders says, glancing at Fenris, “Did attempt to contaminate my bake with dairy products. But I am happy to report that my biscuits are safe.” 

“They're a little crumbly,” Josephine murmurs, setting her first biscuit down. “I think the flavors are strong and delicious, but the texture is just…” She waves a hand in the air. Leliana is nodding while Varric casually sets his mostly uneaten biscuit aside. Cassandra rolls her eyes but also doesn't finish her biscuit either. 

“Well, maybe they were contaminated,” Anders grumbles. At his station, Fenris looks like he might murder someone. Hawke, across the tent, looks like he'd help. 

#

 _@meatisachoice tweeted:_ I cannot BELIEVE that Fenris was allowed to just stand there as Anders accused him of sabotaging his bake which, as seen IN THE EPISODE, happened with malicious intent 1/? 

_@meatisachoice tweeted:_ That is UTTERLY unprofessional of the show and they should feel ashamed of their decision to let the judging proceed without ANY questioning of Fenris aka @applestoapples 2/? 

_@meatisachoice tweeted:_ Especially as Anders is such good representation that this show needs and has been lacking for season after season and this sabotage put him in the bottom of the judging 3/?

 _@meatisachoice tweeted:_ Meanwhile Fenris attempted to CHEAT and just STOOD THERE and the judges didn’t even question him at all about it which is BLATANT favoritism towards someone who can’t even bake 4/?

 _@meatisachoice tweeted:_ Hey @thefakerealvarrictethras @cpentaghast @gfbo_leliana @josiemontilyet @the_great_ferelden_bake_off what do you have to say for yourselves 5/?

 _@meatisachoice tweeted:_ #TeamAnders is morally superior and everyone who claims to like #gbfo but also supports @applestoapples needs to check themselves 6/6

_@meatismurder and @fuckyeahvegans liked this tweet_

_@thatoneguy replied:_ Hey @meatisachoice shut the fuck up 

_@yestruthsteller and @hawkeguy liked this tweet_

_@hawkeguy tweeted:_ All I’m saying is that anyone who doesn’t think you should eat cookie dough has their priorities wrong 

_@daisychain replied:_ Oh who would think that? :(

 _@belatheboozybaker replied:_ Don’t worry about it, kitten. 

_@fenrisdefensesquad tweeted:_ Anyways if you really think that Anders is somehow better representation because he’s vegan… #gtfo of #gbfo 

_@hawkeguy, @belathebozybaker, and @maninwhite liked this tweet_

#

“I’ll murder him for you,” Isabela says as she sits down next to Fenris, a week after what is known as #VeganGate on Twitter and Tumblr. Fenris gives her a startled and confused look. “Anders. I’ll murder him for you, only if you want though.” 

“No, I… do not think this warrants murder.” Fenris considers it. “Yet.” He yawns and glances around. The contestants are all forced to sit under a separate tent after makeup, where they wait until everyone gets there and filming can begin. Makeup takes far too long in Fenris’s opinion, though he might also dislike them since they tried to cover up his vitiligo on day one. 

Besides Isabela and Fenris, Cullen and Alistair are also there. The two of them have gotten along rather well and Fenris has adopted Isabela’s nickname for the duo: big and blond. Neither Sebastian nor Hawke — _James,_ Fenris’s brain reminds him — are there yet and Fenris finds himself feeling disappointed before shaking it off. He’s hardly had a full conversation with Hawke, he shouldn’t feel anything about the lack of the man’s presence. 

“What have you got planned for your signature this week?” Isabela asks, pushing Fenris out of his thoughts. 

“Is it not cheating if I tell you ahead of time?” Fenris shoots back. Isabela shrugs but doesn’t answer as Merrill’s voice drifts over from outside the tent. 

“And I really must say, I’ve never seen so much arguing on the Internet before! It seems like people really don’t have anything better to do. What do you think, Sebastian? I think that people were all just very confused and wanted to be right, because they kept saying things that were wrong,” Merrill says. Her voice rises and falls in a way that only she can make work. In contrast, Sebastian’s voice is even and steady. 

“Sometimes people seek their own truth, even after being confronted with reality.” Sebastian is shaking his head as he walks under the tent. “Oh, Fenris. Hello, friend. I hope you have not let the Internet bother you. We all know you are in the right and that you hold no ill-will towards Anders.” 

Fenris, who has only an inkling of an idea what everyone seems to be focused on, snorts. “I hold many things against Anders,” Fenris corrects. Sebastian hums and sits next to him and Isabela. 

“Well,” Sebastian replies, “Your ill-will has not manifested itself in the form of obscure attempts at sabotage.” 

“If his… fans believe they can threaten me into leaving the show, they are mistaken,” Fenris announces. “And that, if you do not mind, is all I wish to say about it. I would rather focus on baking today, not petty Internet drama.” 

Sebastian and Merrill, who sits next to Isabela, both nod. Isabela looks like she’s still considering the murder option, but thankfully she changes the subject and starts talking about how many hits her collaboration with Fenris has gotten. 

This prompts Merrill into trying to convince Isabela to do an episode with her. Isabela laughs, but it is a warm laugh and she’s smiling. 

“Oh, kitten, you’re far too innocent. A single drop of wine would put you straight on the floor! But maybe later, once we get your tolerance up,” Isabela concedes. 

“You must do some baking without alcohol,” Sebastian says. 

“Yes, sometimes I make bread. But that’s boring,” Isabela replies. 

“Hey,” Hawke calls over from the entrance to the tent. He’s wearing a leather jacket that’s far too nice to risk during baking. He takes it off casually, hanging it over his chair. He’s wearing a T-Shirt today, revealing easy muscle built from years and years of use rather than hard muscle created in a gym. It’s far too distracting and Fenris pulls his eyes away from Hawke’s biceps to try to focus on the man’s face. 

_This would be easier,_ Fenris decides, _if his face was not so attractive._ Isabela gives Fenris a look and waggles her eyebhrows, making Fenris flush despite himself. 

“Has Anders gotten here yet?” Hawke asks, glancing at Fenris before skimming the tent.

Fenris feels his heart plummet. _Of course he is interested in Anders. Humans are attracted to other humans and I — I am simply an ugly elf._ The thought stirs a dangerous anger, frustration, and sorrow in Fenris’s chest and he swallows it down. His hands curl into fists as they rest on his knees. 

“No, he isn’t here yet. Why?” Isabela asks. 

“Oh, good. I wanted to complain about him and his jerk behavior last week, but everyone went home too fast.” Hawke cracks his knuckles as Fenris lets out a sigh of relief. He’s taken aback by the way Hawke’s eyes immediately turn to look at him. Hawke has deep, brown eyes that Fenris — who has never waxed poetically about anything, let alone a man’s _eyes_ — could drown in. 

Fenris doesn’t even know what that means, but he would gladly stare into James’s eyes for the rest of his life.

So, naturally, Fenris flushes and looks away. Hawke chuckles awkwardly and scratches the back of his head. 

“Uh, yeah, I just wanted to complain about Anders. There’s no way he can get away with saying those things about Fenris — especially since they aren’t true!” Hawke crosses his arms and pouts — there’s no other word for it. Perhaps he’s trying to be intimidating, but it just looks like he’s a child who had his favorite snack taken from him. Fenris refuses to think of Hawke, a fully grown man with thighs of steel, as cute but… 

_If the boot fits,_ Fenris thinks. 

“Anders is looking for a fight,” Fenris mumbles, still not necessarily comfortable talking about it. “I will say, it was certainly a surprise introduction to Twitter.”

“Oh, no, Twitter is always like that,” Isabela tells him. “You should have seen the messages I got back when my PMs were open.”

“All I’ve gotten are people asking me about bread,” Hawke says. “Oh, no, there was that one person who really wanna a picture of my feet.”

“Did you send it to them?” Merrill asks. 

“No!” Hawke looks scandalized, as do Sebastian and Isabela — though Isabela looks a little more delighted than is probably socially appropriate. Fenris decides that his — his friends are all insane. “Anyways, I’m going to give Anders a piece of my mind when he gets here. He needs to tell his fans to back off—”

“I appreciate the support, Ha— James. But I can manage on my own,” Fenris interrupts. He can feel himself flush just by using Hawke’s first name. It sounds strangely intimate and he can tell Sebastian and Merrill are temporarily thrown. Isabela looks like someone just told her it was Christmas and Halloween all in one. 

She also looks like she’s going to tweet about this later. Fenris isn’t sure how he feels about that. 

Hawke scowls. “But you shouldn’t have to,” he argues.

“No,” Fenris slowly replies, turning James’s words over and over in his head, “I suppose I should not.”

#

“Hello and welcome to the Great Ferelden Bake Off. I’m Cassandra and today Varric is getting his electronic ankle bracelet refitted, so it’s just me today.” Cassandra stands outside the tent, a dark blue blazer over a lighter button-up. The weather is cloudy, but not yet rainy. In the background, the tent’s flags flutter in the breeze. “Today our contestants will be building sweet creations that tower higher than anything we’ve ever seen on this show. It’s cake week.” 

The camera shifts to the tent, showing clips of future events. Isabela swears as she drops something on the floor. Merrill slams her head against the counter, groaning. Hawke almost collides with Anders as the two rush to the fridge. Fenris delicately places spun sugar between two wafer straws. 

Cassandra’s voice comes in as narration. 

“Last week, Blackwall was sent home after one too many burnt cookies.” A clip of him shaking his head slowly before the remaining contestants are shown walking to the tent. “And the remaining bakers are starting to feel the pressure.” 

Merrill’s voice replaces Cassandra’s. 

“Oh, I don’t know how I’ve gotten this far. Everything seems so new and exciting. I really hope I get to keep baking though, I’m having a lot of fun.”

The camera switches to a shot of Anders standing at his station, apron tied around a loose T-Shirt and jeans. There seems to be a cat on the shirt. “Last week was a challenge, but no one is going to stand in my way this week! I was only on the bottom because of some — unfortunate accidents. It won't happen again.” 

A shot of Isabela, Fenris, and Hawke all talking before they split off to their stations. Hawke is towards the back left and Isabela is to his right while Fenris is in the front left. He pointedly ignores Anders as he slips his apron on. 

“Hello, contestants. Welcome to week five. Congratulations on making it to the halfway mark.” Cassandra frowns. “But unfortunately, it only gets more difficult from here. Today you'll try your hand at some truly unique and awe-inspiring cakes, but let's start easy. Hopefully you're ready to truly stand apart from the rest, because for your signature challenge the judges would like you to make layer cakes. But these cakes must have a twist — when we cut into them, we need to see a pattern on the inside. You can make any kind of cake and any flavors, but there must be a surprise. You have two and a half hours on the clock. Get ready… set… bake!” 

The tent bursts into a flurry of activity. Cullen pulls out a bowl and begins to dump any number of ingredients inside. The camera gets close to his face, the scar on his lip visible despite the makeup team’s best efforts. 

“I feel quite pleased with myself,” he admits. “Didn't think I’d get this far, but middle of the pack is better than last.” 

The camera pans over the tent, showing the remaining contestants scurrying around. Merrill has multiple tins set out despite not having dough to put in the tins. Hawke looks like he's going off to war with the grim look on his face. Isabela, true to form, has what looks like an entire grocery store’s worth of liquor at her station. 

“It's simple, really,” she says as the shot focuses in on her. The labels have all been pulled off the bottles but she seems to have no problem adding them into a bowl. “If the judges are happy, then they'll like my bakes more. And there's nothing that makes you happier than a good shot of Antivian Rum.” She winks at the camera, pouring herself a shot and downing it. 

“Leave some for me,” Hawke calls over as he runs from the fridge, a truly huge thing of milk in his arms. 

“I have the good stuff in my car,” Isabela replies. 

The narration kicks in, still following Isabela. This week, the narration has been done by Cassandra instead of Varric. “Isabela is making her personal twist on a classic black forest cake. The chocolate and whiskey frosting on the sides hides three different layers: dark chocolate, chocolate with cherries, and a Rum based ganash top. Her pattern on the inside is a red cherry surrounded by black cake.” 

On camera, Isabela sets her mixer to begin its job before turning to focus on another part of her bake. The action goes over to Hawke, who seems to be dealing with much less alcohol and is much less happy than Isabela. 

“I, uh, I tried this a few times back home and it never worked really well so… uh, there's a first time for anything?” He shrugs at the camera. “My sister actually said that I can go home at any time now, because I've been using our kitchen nonstop and she wants it back.” He laughs. In the corner of the shot, Fenris trips on thin air and grabs the counter to stop himself from eating shit. 

“Oh no, Fenris! Are you okay?” Merrill asks, looking up from where she's hand grinding some herbs from her own garden. The camera centers on her before spinning to look at the only other elf in the tent. 

Fenris recovers his balance and scowls at everyone in a twenty foot radius. He brushes off his jeans and nods. “I am fine, Merrill. Go back to your bake.” The camera turns away from their conversation to return to Hawke, who is most definitely staring at Fenris. 

“Uh, anyways, I'm making a green tea infused layer cake with vanilla and a bit of beet in the icing.” He holds up a box of green tea. “I think I've had more green tea this week than the rest of my life.” 

The narration begins to speak as the camera circles Hawke. The apron barely wraps around his bulky frame and his arms seem much paler than usual thanks to the flour that's settled all over him. He doesn't seem at all bothered by the camera, which is hardly a surprise, but he doesn't exactly draw it's attention like Anders or Isabela. 

“Hawke is working on a green tea infused sponge came with a hint of vanilla,” Cassandra explains as narration. “His red icing is thanks to the beet juice mixed with the sugar. And on the inside will be a fearsome dragon with red eyes.” 

The camera sweeps over the top of the tent, looking down at the flurry of activity, before focusing on the judges and Cassandra. Josephine and Leliana are both wearing pant suits today, though Josephine is in royal blue and gold while Leliana is in lilac and grey. They both, of course, look absolutely smashing. 

“So no Varric today. Are we still going to get the same puns?” Leliana asks. 

Cassandra snorts. She doesn't lower herself to answer the question. 

“I can’t believe we haven’t had a challenge like this yet,” Josephine says, changing the subject. “It’s really quite the challenge because the bakers won’t know if they succeeded until we’re cutting open their cake.” 

“What do you think they have to be wary of?” Cassandra asks. 

“Well, if their cake is too soggy then the pattern will suffer as well. And if they do not manage their time wisely, then they will be up a creek without a paddle, as the saying goes.” Leliana looks out over the tent and smiles. “I am certain that we will be pleasantly surprised, however.”

#

“That’s time! Bakers, step away from your cakes. Including you, Isabela, I’m watching you,” Cassandra calls out. Hawke lets out a heavy sigh and leans against his station. There’s juice and frosting smothered all over the front of his arpon. Isabela grabs the remnants of her Rum and slowly pours it into a cup for later. 

Sebastian is the first one the judges go to and he has a small smile on his face as he explains that he’s made a lemon and lime cake with pineapple. He is especially proud as he explains the thought behind the cake design. 

“My parents almost had me join the Chantry as a Brother, but I was never officially ordained. This cake is inspired by my time with the Chantry, however. When you cut it open, you will see the heraldry of the Chantry.” He falls silent as Leliana takes a knife and, easily, cuts the cake down the center. As she pulls away one half, the Chantry’s symbol is indeed on the inside of the cake. 

Sebastian lets out a soft sigh of relief as Leliana and Josephine coo over how well the design came out. 

“You picked something quite tricky, but you made it work,” Leliana tells him. 

“I hope it tastes as good as it looks,” Josephine adds. 

The judges confirm that Sebastian is a good baker — though his cake is almost undercooked — and move on to Fenris. His cake passes muster as well, the delicate apple decoration on the top getting commendations from both Leliana and Josephine. 

“And this is absolutely delightful,” Josephine continues, pointing at the three apples inside the cake. Each is made of a different kind of flavored sponge — strawberry, green apple, and lemon. The cake around the apple shapes is vanilla. Fenris looks slightly exhausted, but proud. “The fact that you used so many different flavors made me worry that it would be overwhelming, but it all goes together. Very well done, Fenris.” 

“Thank you,” Fenris replies. Leliana gives him a warm smile and then extends her hand. Fenris’s eyes widen and a few people in the tent gasp as he and Leliana shake hands. 

“Excellent work.” With that, Leliana and Josephine proceed. 

The shot changes to Fenris as he stands in front of a tree. He has a small smile on his face and his eyes are gleaming. Even though his hair is sticking up a little and he has flour on his collar, he looks more put together and confident in this single moment than he has the entire show. 

“I didn’t think that I would get the first handshake, but I am pleasantly surprised. Hopefully the judges continue to be impressed with my bakes. There is only higher and higher to go.” He chuckles. “It is still a little unreal, my apologies. I will endeavor to be more eloquent next time.” 

Another interview, this one with Anders. He has his arms crossed and he has a sharp frown on his face. “Well, yes, I’m a little annoyed that Fenris got the first handshake of the season. I think I should have gotten it, but sometimes we’re disappointed and we have to live with that.” Anders shrugs. 

“I am very happy with my bake,” Sebastian says in his interview. “Of course, I wish that I had gotten the handshake, but Fenris has done well all season and he deserves it.” 

“Oh, this?” Isabela, standing in front of a pond, grins and holds up a thermos. “It’s just water, don’t worry.” She winks at the camera. 

Off-screen, Hawke shouts, “Isabela, can I have some of that?” 

“Later! I told you, good stuff is in my car!” 

#

[A gifset of Fenris being judged for his signature challenge cake, including the handshake]  
_@gfbogifs posted:_ Season 9 Handshakes: Fenris Liberati 

_@yestruthsteller reblogged and added:_ I’m so proud of him!!!

 _@thatoneguy reblogged and added:_ I’m sad we didn’t see Hawke’s face D: I bet he was so happy for his favorite elf! 

[A gifset of Fenris hunched over his station in a wide stance, intensely focused as he places fondant on his showstopper cake. Behind him, Varric mimics him but quite honestly looks like he’s constipated]  
_@gfbogifs posted:_ Season 9: Fenris “Fondant Straddle” Liberati  & Varric “I Need To Shit” Tethras 

_@therealfakevarrictethras reblogged and added:_ Today’s sponsor, Fen’Harel Laxatives! Guaranteed to get the shit right out. (Fen’Harel Corp. is not related to Solas Inc. any similarities or relations in branding methods are unintentional) 

_@thatone guy and @gfbogifs liked this post_

#

“So were you serious about the Rum or—” 

Isabela shoots Hawke a look. “I’m always serious about alcohol, dear. But this is the expensive stuff, so you owe me.” 

Hearing her, Hawke adopts a disappointed look. The two keep walking towards the parking lot, the day’s shoot over. Hawke feels like he could sleep for a week, but he still has to drive half an hour to the hotel he’s staying at before passing out. _It’s good that they feed us,_ he tells himself. He couldn’t handle a full day of baking without being able to eat his own creations.

 _And Fenris’s cake was so good,_ he thinks, remembering how the layer cake practically melted in his mouth. _He’s so talented… I can’t believe that he ate some of my walnut cake. That technical was a disaster. But he didn’t spit it out immediately, so that’s good, right? And he called me James today…. Maker, he has such a nice voice. I never thought I’d say this, but his voice really makes me believe in higher beings._

“Hawke? Hawke?” Isabela nudges Hawke with her elbow, knocking him out of his thoughts.

“Huh? Sorry, I was… thinking about how today went,” Hawke says, flushing a little. He glances around. None of the other competitors are around. Sebastian and Merrill live close enough that they just take the train back home. Anders is probably arranging for more vegan ingredients to be delivered and Fenris… Hawke isn’t sure _how_ Fenris gets home, or if he even goes home between the competition days. 

Hawke knows vaguely where Fenris lives, mostly because he knows where Isabela lives and that they saw each other one week. He may or may not have watched the video several times that day. But despite knowing that Fenris’s favorite food is apple pie and that he is ambidextrous and speaks four languages, Hawke hasn’t the foggiest clue about his childhood, home, or his phone number. 

It’s the last one that really bugs Hawke, though honestly he doesn’t know what he’d do with it anyway. He’s too scared of bugging Fenris — sometimes it feels like Fenris only talks to him out of some weird sense of obligation. Fenris certainly has an easier time talking to Sebastian or Isabela, and— 

“Really, Hawke, a girl’s going to start feeling ignored if you keep spacing out like that,” Isabela chides with her hands on her hips. But she doesn’t seem that bothered — there’s a smile on her face.

“Sorry, seriously, I’m just out of it I guess. What were you saying?” Hawke forces himself to pay attention this time. 

“I was saying, if you want some of the Rum you have to earn it.” Isabela unlocks her car and opens the back door. She pulls out an almost completely full thing of Rum that Hawke knows, just by looking at it, costs more than a week’s rent. “So — and I want your honesty — who’s your favorite?” 

“Huh?” 

“You heard me.” Isabela is smirking. She is definitely smirking. “Who’s your favorite in the competition and why is it Fenris?”

“It isn’t—” Hawke stops when Isabela raises a single, perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Okay, fine. it’s Fenris. Why do you want to know?” 

“Oh, no reason. So, why is Fenris your favorite?”

Hawke groans. “Are we really having this conversation?” 

“Well, we can have it here or we can have it at your hotel. Your choice.” 

“Why does it have to be my hotel?” 

“Because I’m staying at the same one as Fenris and unless you want him to see us talking about him—” 

Hawke is already heading to his car. “Follow me, it’s only half an hour away.” 

Isabela grins and gets into her car. “This is going to be fun!” She shouts. Hawke sincerely doubts that. 

#

 _@thefakerealvarrictethras tweeted:_ Okay folks, stuck in the airport for an hour. If you’re a fan of extravagant lies and tall tales, send me some questions ;) 

_@thefakerealvarrictethras tweeted:_ And no, I will not tell you who wins gfbo.

 _@chirpchirp47 tweeted:_ I love your sweater where did you get it?

 _@thefakerealvarrictethras replied:_ Grew it myself.

 _@fruittreeinyourcourtyard tweeted:_ Best part of being host on #gfbo?

 _@thefakerealvarrictethras replied:_ Free food and bugging @cpentaghast all day.

 _@cpentaghast replied:_ ugh 

_@eldritchpudge tweeted:_ Do you need a hairnet for all your chest hair?

 _@thefakerealvarrictethras replied:_ They tried. Couldn’t find one big enough. 

_@staggeringlooks tweeted:_ What products do you use on your chest hair?

 _@thefakerealvarrictethras replied:_ Have to ask the costume/makeup folks, but a lot. 

_@Idontlistentothemountaingoats tweeted:_ so was Cassandra being serious about the ankle bracelet?

 _@cpentaghast replied:_ We can neither confirm nor deny 

_@thefakerealvarrictethras replied:_ pm me 

#

“After towering cakes and nutty bakes, the competition has moved on to a brand new challenge.” Cassandra looks down at Varric. “What is the challenge this week, Varric?” 

“Well the real challenge is going to be fitting into my clothes after eating all the delicious food!” Varric laughs. Cassandra doesn’t. All is right with the world. “But, uh, no, today we’re taking away some of the key ingredients and forcing the bakers to do their best.” 

“Oh?” Cassandra does her best to act surprised. 

“Yep! It’s going to be great. Instead of letting the contestants sabotage each other, we’re preemptively sabotaging them!” Varric grins. 

“I… I do not think that is the intention of the producers,” Cassandra says. She looks behind the camera at Aveline, who is facepalming with both hands. “Do we have to do another take?” 

“It’s fine!” Aveline shouts. 

“Great!” Varric claps his hands together. “Welcome to the Great Ferelden Bake Off!” 

A moment passes. Then, suddenly: “Maker’s breath, we didn’t have you in the shot. We need to do that again.” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Varric replies. “I’m not usually in the shot anyways.”

Cassandra shakes her head. “Ugh.”

#

“My entire life is nothing but alternate ingredients,” Anders tells the camera. “Do you see this? This is the best quality, one hundred percent organic, fair trade coconut oil. And this? This is coconut milk. Far better than anything that comes out of a creature.” He makes a face and sets his ingredients down. “This is my week and anyone who thinks differently is messing with the wrong mage.” 

The camera sweeps around the tent, following the buzz of people struggling to bake without using any animal products… Except for Anders, who seems like he’s having the time of his life. He’s wearing socks with sandals and a T-Shirt that reads “THIS IS WHAT A VEGAN LOOKS LIKE.” This is despite the costume department’s numerous attempts to get him to wear real footwear.

At his station, Hawke is staring at the soy milk and the vegan butter. “I know that this changes the consistency, but I don’t know how?” Hawke shrugs as he starts to add things into bowls. “If I mess up, I mess up. I probably won’t be the worst in the tent.” 

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Cullen says as the camera focuses on him. “I know I was close to going home last week, so this week I need to do well. But vegan muffins?” Cullen laughs nervously. “Do I _look_ like a vegan to you?” 

Fenris, who is walking by with vegan butter in one hand and vegan milk in the other, snorts. “You are not wearing a shirt declaring yourself vegan, but I am certain if you wanted one Anders would be happy to induct you.” 

“What are we being inducted into?” Isabela asks as she passes by the two. 

“Veganism,” Cullen says.

“Malnutrition,” Fenris replies. 

“A cult,” Hawke yells, waving a flour-covered hand. 

“I love cults!” Merrill shouts from her station. “They’re so fascinating. Did you know that there’s a cult surrounding the worship of cheese? It’s rather popular where I’m from. They meet—” 

The camera chooses this moment to jump to the judges and hosts — Varric properly in the shot for once — going around and asking the contestants about their bakes. Sebastian seems rather calm about the ordeal, but Fenris barely answers questions as he struggles to get his muffin dough ready for baking. Anders gladly answers question after question and even seems disappointed when they move on. 

“So what can we expect?” Leliana asks Hawke as he starts pouring his dough into the tin. 

“Well I decided to keep it simple. I’m making six blueberry muffins and six cranberry muffins,” he replies. He almost pours the wrong dough into the tin, but corrects himself at the last moment. “Sorry, bit distracted.” 

“Take your time,” Varric tells him. “I love your flannel today. Very… colorful.” 

Hawke is wearing a bright blue and purple flannel, the most colorful to date. That is definitely why Fenris keeps glancing at him as he walks to and from the refrigerator in the back of the tent. 

“And what texture can we expect from your vegan muffins?” Leliana asks, making a subtle dig considering Hawke’s showstopper cake was more than a little soggy. 

“Er, vegan muffin texture.” Hawke does his best to sound as confident as possible.

Leliana arches an eyebrow. “Which is?” 

“Very nice.” Hawke nods and picks up his two muffin tins. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy them,” he promises as he opens the oven up and sticks the tins inside. 

“I’m sure we will,” Josephine replies. The judges move on, though Varric nudges Cassandra in the side. She glances down at him and groans.

“What is it, dwarf?” 

“Hawke forgot to line his tins.” 

Nineteen minutes and thirty three seconds later, a shout rang out from Hawke’s station: 

“Fuck!” 

#

“Does anyone know what a pita looks like?” Cullen asked. 

At her station, Isabela almost dropped an entire egg into the mixing bowl — shell and all. She turned around to stare at Cullen. “Did you just ask what a _pita_ looks like?” She questioned. 

“Er, yes?” 

Isabela turned away, shaking her head. “If I go home this week, I'm going to murder someone.” 

Merrill holds up a thing of psyllium powder — a white powder not unlike flour in appearance — and squints. She has a lovely green blouse on and a loose yellow scarf. There's no flower crown, but only because production was worried about it falling off in the middle of a bake. 

“I don't know what this is, but it looks rather important.” She hums and sets it aside, looking at the other ingredients. “I've never made pita before, but Isabela looks like she's very confident so it can’t be that hard!” 

“I have made pita in the past, but never gluten free pita. And after my… lackluster vegan muffins, I am concerned about my stay in the tent,” Fenris admits as he begins to knead the dough. It is exceptionally sticky and he is having a great deal of difficulty working with it. “Unfortunately, a good week is not enough to guarantee you a stop next week. The challenge is being excellent every time. I must push myself to reach that.” Fenris frowns. “But first, I think I must add more flour. This dough is horribly sticky.” 

Fenris isn't the only one struggling. Hawke’s dough is having the opposite problem — it's crumbling into pieces. 

“Do I add more water? Did I not mix it properly? I don't know, I hate making flatbreads.” Hawke admits. Next to him, Varric crosses his arms and stands up on the tips of his toes to look at Hawke’s station. 

“Aren't you the bread guy back home?” Varric asks. He can barely see what Hawke is doing, though Hawke’s considerable size doesn't help with that. 

“Yes, I was the bread guy — back when I was twelve!” Hawke takes a moment to wipe at his nose, but just leaves a smear of flour that stands out against his skin. “Ugh, this is a nightmare.” 

“I'm doing great,” Anders says as the camera shifts to him. “Gluten is not quite as bad as dairy and other animal products, but I have many fellow vegans who are gluten free so this is a piece of cake.” 

“Unlike your cake week,” Fenris says just loud enough for the microphones — and Anders — to hear. 

“My cakes were delicious! Just — not all of us can get _Leliana handshakes,_ ” Anders retorts, sticking his nose up. Fenris rolls his eyes and goes back to kneading his dough. 

At his station, Sebastian is mumbling under his breath as he sticks the dough in the proving drawer. One hand grasps the Chantry amulet around his neck. 

“What are you doing?” Cassandra asks Sebastian. He gives her a sheepish smile. 

“I don't have very much confidence in this bake, but prayer has always comforted me and I thought it wouldn't hurt.” He laughs. “It certainly cannot make my dough any worse!” 

#

When it comes to judging the technical challenge, the mood in the tent is much different. Everyone has some idea of how they've done and at this point, it's only a matter of hoping someone else has done worse. And even those who think they've done well aren't certain — it's hard to know what the final product should look like when the recipe is literally “step one: mix” and “step two: bake.” 

Today, no one except Anders and Merrill are smiling. Even Isabela, who usually enjoys her disasters as much as her successes, seems to be taking this more seriously. Cullen is biting his nails and Fenris looks like as tight as a tripwire. They've been waiting for almost thirty minutes, the judges murmuring to each other while the contestants sweat out their nerves. 

Finally, though, they're ready. 

“Okay, so it seems like we had some trouble,” Josephine says with a small laugh. “But some of you did quite well and you all should be proud of yourselves for putting something on the plate.” 

“With that, we will announce the best and the worst of this technical challenge,” Leliana adds. “In last place, this one.” She goes and stands behind one of the plates. 

Fenris groans and raises his hand. 

“It was soggy and underbaked and the texture was very off,” Leliana tells him. 

“Sixth,” Josephine says, standing behind another plate. 

“That would be me,” Cullen confesses as he raises his hand. He’s blushing but he doesn't look surprised. “Sorry.” 

“It was dry and you didn't have the pocket we were really looking for.” Josephine gives Cullen an apologetic smile. 

Hawke comes in fifth, Merrill is fourth, and Isabela is third. Of them all, Isabela looks surprised that she did so well. Hawke looks a little nauseous. 

“And second is…” The silence seems to stretch for eternity before Leliana finally goes to stand behind a plate of nearly perfectly cooked pita. 

“That is mine,” Sebastian says. 

“It was delicious and perfectly cooked. They were just a little messy.” Leliana gives him a smile. 

“And that means Anders — you are the winner of the technical challenge,” Cassandra announces. A smattering of applause breaks out and Anders looks very pleased with himself. “Congratulations on your first technical challenge win.” 

The shot switches to Anders standing outside. He has a wide grin on his face. He does a little dance as he laughs. 

“This is a good day! I knew that I would show why vegans should be feared.” He claps his hands together and laughs again. 

“I am nervous,” Fenris says in his own interview. “It hinges on my showstopper. If I do not impress them, then I could go home.” 

“It could be worse. I could have been last,” Hawke admits. He lets out a nervous chuckle. “My sister is going to _kill_ me, though. I'm supposed to be the bread guy. Ugh.” He runs his hands over his face. “If I go home this week, please send someone to check on me, haha.” 

#

 _@sunshinegirl tweeted:_ Don’t listen to @hawkeguy, I’m not going to kill him if he gets sent home 

_@hawkeguy retweeted and added:_ Don’t listen to her, that’s what she wants you to think 

_@sunshinegirl, @applestoapples, and @belatheboozybaker liked this tweet_

_@sunshinegirl tweeted:_ I’m also very proud of him for making a sugar-free cake and I’m glad that he’s never going to have to practice that again.

 _@belatheboozybaker replied:_ Does he really take over the entire kitchen? 

_@sunshinegirl replied: _And the pantry. It’s FULL of his “test” ingredients. Please come take them, I’m begging you.__

____

____

_@applestoapples replied:_ do you not have a full kitchen for the bakery *bread emoji* *house emoji* 

_@sunshinegirl replied:_ we do but he’s still using all of it

 _@hawkeguy replied:_ I’m not using all of it

 _@sunshinegirl replied:_ mhmm sure. [Attached: a photo of James Hawke shirtless with flannel pajama pants baking, the counter covered in supplies and bowls]

_@belatheboozybaker, @applestoapples, and @maninwhite liked this tweet_


	4. Interlude: James Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm absolutely flattered that ANOTHER wonderful person has done art for this fic! Go check out the_tevinter_biscuit's art [here](http://the-tevinter-biscuit.tumblr.com/post/176030363346/a-bit-of-bake-off-fenris-from-scatteringmyashess), featuring the one and only Fenris. 
> 
> On a slightly more serious note, this chapter is a little more sad than the others, but don't worry. We will return to our previously scheduled fluff soon enough.

Hawke wakes up as he usually does. Groggy, a little stubble pushing its way on his chin, and half-crushed by his mabari. He yawns and scratches Trinket behind the ears, letting his eyes adjust to the slivers of daylight pushing their way past his curtains. His small room slowly comes into focus and Hawke realizes that the reason he feels so cold is because the blankets have been kicked off and now lay on the floor. He looks at Trinket, who is still blissfully asleep, and sighs. 

“Okay, boy, we have to wake up. Time to come up with an impressive recipe to impress a cute elf.” Hawke attempts to push Trinket off of him, or to at least wake the slumbering beast. But all Trinket does is snort and dig his paws further into Hawke’s torso. “Seriously, Trinket? Come on,” Hawke grumbles. 

“Brother? Are you awake yet? It's nearly eleven o’clock!” Bethany calls from another part of the flat. 

Hearing Bethany’s voice, Trinket sits up and shakes his head. He drools a little bit on Hawke before barking and scampering off to go say hi to his second favorite human — Hawke refuses to accept that _his_ mabari likes anyone more than him — pushing past the half-open door. Hawke groans and rolls over onto his stomach, feeling the comfortable tendrils of sleep rise up and start entwining their tentacles around him… 

“Oh, wake up you stupid dork,” Bethany mutters, throwing open the door and marching into her brother’s room. “Ugh, James, why does it smell like a pigsty in here? You know what, I don't want to know.” She crosses the floor, careful not to step in any piles of clothing, and rips the curtains back. 

Hawke flips her off and pulls his pillow over his head right as Bethany yanks him by the ankle.

“Wake up, brother, you told me not to let you sleep in today,” Bethany complains. She isn't nearly strong enough to force Hawke anywhere he doesn't want to be, but she is clever and Hawke doesn't want to test her so early. 

“I'm getting up,” he promises, sitting up and glancing back at her. She's already dressed and ready for the day. It takes Hawke a moment to remember she has classes later. “You want a ride to school?” He asks, like they're teenagers and he's just gotten his first truck. 

Bethany makes a face and grabs a random shirt off the floor. She shakes it out before chucking it at Hawke’s head. “Get dressed and get baking.” 

She leaves and Trinket lets out a low whine. He looks between the doorway and Hawke before sniffing the ground and going after Bethany. Hawke groans and pulls the shirt on — it doesn't smell and it doesn't have any huge stains on it which is about as good as it gets. 

With that, he's ready to face the day. 

#

Being unemployed has very few benefits, but the best benefit is that Hawke gets to set his own schedule. It doesn't matter if he wakes up at noon because nobody is expecting him and Isabela knows better than to get a reply to any of her texts before then. He can sit and watch TV or YouTube as much as he wants — and he has been watching more YouTube than usual — and he can watch _whatever_ because nobody else is home. 

Hawke will deny it if asked, but he's pretty sure that he makes up half the hits on _Bela the Boozy Baker Ep54: Cheddar Bacon Pies ft. Fenris Liberati._

Okay, maybe there aren’t an unlimited amount of benefits to being unemployed, but he’s competing on a national show and he doesn’t have to pay rent and he has his mabari with him almost all the time so, really, what could he complain about?

“How is it this hard to put apple into a fucking dessert?” Hawke wails, slamming his head on the dining room table. Trinket looks up at him and tilts his head. “It’s okay, boy. I’m just going to embarrass myself on national television because I’m trying to impress the most perfect elf in all of Thedas—”

 

“James, are you monologuing to Trinket again?” Bethany asks, walking down the stairs with her bag slung over one shoulder. 

“No,” Hawke lies. “I was… discussing strategy with him.” 

“Mhmm.” Bethany stops by the table, looking at the papers strewn about. “Orlesian roulade? What’s that?” 

“It’s like… A sponge that you roll up and put stuff in. At least, this one is. We’re doing desserts.” Hawke doesn’t look up but he still waves his hands around as he talks. Neither Bethany nor Trinket are at all bothered by this. “I’m trying to incorporate apple, but I can’t think of anything other than some kind of sauce or cream or just sticking apple on top and calling it a day, but—”

“James?”

“Yes, Bethy?” Hawke has the vain, vain hope that if he uses Bethany’s least favorite nickname that she’ll drop the subject. 

Bethany, who is a twenty three year old and not a three year old, is not distracted. “Why are you so concerned about using apple in your Orlesian roulade?” 

There’s a moment of silence in the flat. Trinket, as if sensing the oncoming storm, decides to go find somewhere else to lay down. Hawke considers the merit of lying to one of the few people who have always been able to tell if he can lie. He also debates whether running away is an acceptable option, but unfortunately by virtue of living with Bethany escape is not an effective long-term solution. 

So instead he tells the truth. 

“I… want to impress Fenris.” 

Bethany grabs the nearest book — _101 Interesting Flavor Combinations_ — and smacks Hawke on the shoulder with it. Not hard, but enough that he sits up and groans. 

“Bethany—” 

“You—” _Smack._ “Idiotic—” _Smack._ “Hopeless—” _Smack._ “Romantic—”

“Seriously, are you done—”

“Dork!” Bethany finishes by lightly whacking Hawke on the head. He rolls his eyes, more annoyed than hurt, but also fairly admonished. “You are competing in the biggest baking show in Ferelden! Everyone in my classes wants to know what you’re making for the next challenge or if they can get something made by you. The bakery has had so many inquiries from other cities that Mother is going to hire someone for online sales alone!”

“I _know,_ ” Hawke moans. Bethany holds a hand up and Hawke’s mouth clicks shut. 

“Not finished. The bakery is all we have left from Father. And while I _still_ cannot believe that your clever solution to us almost being bankrupt was to get on GBFO, do you know what I can’t believe even more?” 

“That I’m still on the show?” 

“You’re risking everything because you have a crush! A crush!” Bethany sighs, dropping the book back on the table. “Is he worth it, James?” 

“What?” Hawke genuinely isn’t sure what she means. Fenris is worth a great deal, after all. He’s the best baker in the tent except for maybe Sebastian — though if alcohol is involved then Isabela is a strong contender. Fenris is, hands down, the most attractive in the tent. Hawke would have to be blind not to think that. 

But Fenris also is the only one who consistently laughs at Hawke’s jokes and he has a way of smiling that captures Hawke’s breath and his little laughs make Hawke’s heart skip multiple beats. And even though Hawke doesn’t even have Fenris’s phone number, he still wants to know everything about him. He’s just not stupid enough to think Fenris feels the same way.

“Never mind,” Bethany replies. “I know that look on your face, and it’s the same one you got when you decided to go off to college and prove to all of us that you weren’t a complete disaster.” 

“I take offense to that,” Hawke says in an exaggerated tone. “I am a total disaster. There is no one more disaster than I. People travel from far and wide to ask me for wisdom on how to be a better disaster. It has taken years and years of training and study to—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Bethany laughs and spreads her arms. “Hug your sister, disaster dork?” 

Hawke gets up from the table and then pulls his sister close. “Are you sure you don’t need me driving you to school?” 

“Keep reading about apple sorbet and Orlesian desserts,” Bethany tells him. “I can make it to school by myself.”

“Okay…” Hawke’s hesitation must be even more obvious than normal because Bethany gives him another hug. 

“Seriously. I’m okay. I know this week is rough, but… He wouldn’t want us to mope, you know?” Bethany forces a smile. Hawke hopes that his is a little bit more believable. “I’ll text you if I stay later than five, but I should be back by then. Try to not leave too much of a mess, okay?”

“I will leave every single measuring cup and mixing bowl for you to clean,” Hawke threatens. 

Bethany rolls her eyes and without another word, walks out the door. Hawke sighs, looks at the mounds of research in front of him, and decides that he really wants to bake a loaf of bread. 

#

_@hawkeguy tweeted:_ There’s no LOAFING around at the Hawke family bakery today! [Attached: A picture of baking supplies set out across a kitchen counter, including a bread tin]

_@applestoapples and @daisychain liked this tweet_

_@thefakerealvarrictethras retweeted and added:_ Glad to see one of the #gfbo top six prepping for this week!

 _@sunshinegirl tweeted:_ hey @hawkeguy if the kitchen isn’t clean when I get back then I’m posting the rest of the photos

 _@belatheboozybaker replied:_ can you post them anyways? *heart eyes* Just proof that the first one wasn’t a fluke 

_@maninwhite and @applestoapples liked this tweet_

_@hawkeguy tweeted:_ I heard that @belatheboozybaker wanted to see some proof that these are real ;) [Attached: A selfie purposefully taken with James Hawke flexing one arm in his kitchen]

_@belatheboozybaker, @applestoapples, and @maninwhite liked this tweet_

_@applestoapples replied:_ you look much better when you aren’t half awake *sleeping emoji* *sunrise emoji* 

#

Hawke has no plans to leave the flat and, naively, his first thought when he hears a knock on the door is that Lorilla from downstairs needs help opening up a jar or reading small print on her medications. He is just finishing his shopping list for tomorrow — as much as he would love to get a practice bake in today, he doesn’t have nearly enough energy to make a loaf of apple sweet bread and try to make sponge — when the knock interrupts. 

“A minute!” He shouts, jotting down the last few ingredients, giving it another once-over, before heading to the front door. “Hello, what do — Mother!” Hawke does his best to sound pleasantly surprised.

Leandra grins, throwing her arms wide and waiting for Hawke to hug her. She doesn’t begin talking until he does. “James! I know you usually like having these days to relax, but I saw on the FBC website that next week is dessert, so I wanted to bring you a few of our oldest recipes.”

“M-Mother, you know that we have to bake what they ask…” Hawke doesn’t feel too disheartened when Leandra ignores him, walking into the flat and kicking her shoes off at the door. 

“I think you might find the tarts good reading, but there’s also an extensive section about meringue—” Leandra heads to the kitchen, no doubt following the smell of baking bread, and Hawke only just manages to get in front of her. 

“Mother, I’m working on something, but maybe we could sit in the living room?” Hawke suggests. Trinket comes bounding down the stairs and any hold on Leandra’s attention Hawke could claim is instantly stolen. 

Trinket loves all his humans, but Leandra slips him the most human food and is the one who takes him to the groomer’s most often, so he’s a little biased. Regardless, Leandra laughs and begins to pet Trinket, cooing at him and asking him silly questions about _how is my James doing? Is he eating all his veggies? Is he getting enough sleep? He’s so lucky to have a good mabari like you, yes he is._

Hawke does not sigh as he does his best to herd his mother and dog into the living room. It takes five minutes and by the time he’s done he wants to crawl back in bed and sleep for a day, but instead he forces a smile and sits in an armchair across from Leandra. 

“So, Mother, what did you need? You didn’t come all this way just to drop off a cookbook, did you?” He asks. 

“Oh, you have to forgive your elderly mother for wanting to spend time with her son!” Leandra falls silent. Hawke winces. 

“I appreciate your company,” he says. “I just wasn’t expecting it, sorry.” 

Leandra nods but doesn’t reply. Hawke catches the eyes of Trinket, who looks more confused than anything else. In the kitchen, the timer goes off. Hawke makes a quick apology and goes to rescue his latest attempt at the bread. He pulls it out and sets it on the cooling rack before returning to his mother, who is still sitting in the same place. One of her hands absentmindedly strokes Trinket’s fur. Her eyes are focused on a framed picture on the mantle. 

Hawke sighs and ducks his head. Trinket whines and slips away from Leandra. He nuzzles up next to Hawke, his wet nose resting against Hawke’s leg. Hawke scratches Trinket on the head. 

“I’m closing the bakery Wednesday,” Leandra says. “Just for the day. I thought we could all go to visit your brother.” As if they’ve ever _not_ visited Carver on the anniversary. 

“Yeah.” Hawke forces a smile onto his face as he holds out a hand. “Maybe I’ll look over the recipes later, okay? I’m sure something — er, that it’s very useful. I just have a lot to read.” He laughs and it doesn’t sound quite as fake as it is. Hawke counts that as a success. “I have to learn how to make a meringue. Do you know how hard it is to make a meringue?” 

“Your father may have come up with the idea to open a bakery, James, but I _did_ help him with it,” Leandra reminds Hawke. “Now, what are the desserts this week? You said meringue? I have a very good orange and brown sugar meringue recipe. Or you can try the strawberry and lemon one.” Leandra laughs. “Oh, but you don’t want to hear your mother talk about things you already know. How was the competition this week? Did you want to kill Anders again?” 

Hawke, for a moment, almost regrets admitting vague murderous tendencies a few weeks ago at family dinner night. _Almost._

“He was insufferable when he won star baker. I hope he doesn’t do well the rest of the competition.” Hawke is not pouting. He refuses to admit that he can pout. 

“You know, it’s okay for people to be vegans,” Leandra says. 

“It’s not that,” Hawke explains. “I don’t give two figs whether he’s vegan, it’s the fact that he won’t shut up about it! And he’s so rude to everyone else about it. And about everything else.” He sighs. “I don’t think any of us like him, but every time we think he’s going to go home, someone else fucks up worse.” 

“Language,” Leandra chide him, as if Hawke isn’t a twenty six year old with a college degree and a vaguely criminal past. 

Then again, Hawke is certain his mother has done everything she can to forget the vaguely criminal past. 

“Sorry,” Hawke replies, not sorry at all. 

“He seems perfectly reasonable on the show,” Leandra murmurs. 

“Yeah, well, that’s because Aveline and the camera crew know what they’re doing. He said some really racist shit to Fenris the other week,” Hawke complains. 

“Language. And isn’t Fenris an elf?” 

“.... Yeah?” Suddenly Hawke regrets opening his mouth and he once told his primary school principal that only fat and ugly people became principals. 

“Hm.” Leandra glances around. “Do you have any tea? I might as well stay until you cut that bread — and don’t lie to me, I can tell you the type and age of a bread based on smell alone!” 

Hawke forces a smile. It’s all teeth. “Sure, Mother. I’ll be right back.”

#

 _Bethany:_ Honestly, these two are such idiots. I don’t know what else to do. Is there any way to lock them in a broom closet together?

 _Isabela:_ Bethany your brother is so large he’d crush Fenris in a closet…. and not in a fun, sexy way. 

_Bethany:_ Ugh. 

_Bethany:_ Any luck getting Fenris to ask for James’s number?

 _Isabela:_ I think I’d have more luck convincing Anders to eat a bit of cheese. 

_Isabela:_ Fenris was *definitely* interested in the shirtless pics though… 

_Bethany:_ Yes!!!!! I’ll take more tomorrow. James always sleeps shirtless, it makes it the easiest thing in the world. 

_Isabela:_ Try to get some of his arms. Fenris is an arm man.

 _Isabela:_ Also apparently an ass man. 

_Bethany:_ I am NOT taking photos of my brother’s butt.

 _Isabela:_ Think of how *happy* they’ll be together. Two of them, pressed close together, shirtless in bed…. Yum.

 _Bethany:_ That’s my brother, ew.

 _Isabela:_ Funny, Sebastian said “you know I was almost a Brother” when I started talking to him about Hawke…

#

Tuesday is harder than Monday. Hawke wakes up to his sister taking pictures of him drooling all over his pillows. It doesn't help that he's approximately three hundred cheese burgers overweight and not at all attractive like Fenris — or anyone else for that matter. 

Hawke begs Bethany not to post them and she agrees, but he knows she doesn't delete them. He may or may not check his Twitter every hour on the hour. The only thing that improves his mood that morning is the fact that Fenris tweets about how much he’s enjoying the weather. It puts a smile on Hawke’s face, knowing that Fenris is happy somewhere. 

“Can you make sure to get some milk? We’re almost out,” Bethany shouts as he heads out of the flat. 

“Yeah, it's on the list,” Hawke tells her, pulling his shoes on and trying not to fall over as he hops up and down. “Anything else?” 

“Uh, don't forget to get some Mountain Dew. I think Mother said she'll bring the flowers.” 

“Mountain Dew?” Hawke glances around the corner at Bethany, one shoe on and the other doing its best to stop Hawke from donning it. 

“For Carver, remember? It was his favorite.” Bethany looks more sad than upset, but Hawke still feels like he kicked a puppy. 

“Right, sorry. I… I thought he liked Monster.” There's a moment of silence. Hawke forces a smile. “I’ll get the most disgusting flavor they have.” 

“It's what he would have wanted,” Bethany replies. 

Trinket turns the corner, a chew toy in his mouth. He bites down on it and it lets out a high pitched squeak. Hawke and Bethany look at the mabari, who sits on the ground and grins. Not for the first time, Hawke wishes that his life was as simple as Trinket's. 

“Call me if you think of anything else you need,” Hawke says as he puts his final shoe on. Bethany is quiet as Hawke slips out of the flat.

#

 _@sunshinegirl tweeted:_ Social media blackout for me and @hawkeguy for the rest of the week. Everything is all right, just taking a break :) 

_@belatheboozybaker replied:_ *hugs* 

#

Hawke is at the grocery store when his phone buzzes. He quickly sets the carton of eggs in his grocery cart before taking out his phone, expecting a call from Bethany. But it isn’t her contact that pops up — it isn't even a number he recognizes. 

_+4402101997:_ hi I hope it is okay that isabela gave me your phone number.

 _+4402101997:_ this is fenris.

Hawke feels his heart stop. He has a vague realization that he's lucky that nothing is in his hands because he feels weak. His eyes are glued to his phone, like if he blinks then the messages will go away. But they stay there, innocent and entirely undeserving of Hawke’s pure disbelief. 

_James:_ if this is a joke, bela, I'm gonna put water in your vodka this weekend 

He stuffed his phone in his pocket, before shaking his head and pushing his cart further through the store. His cart looks like… well, like he's going to spend the entire week baking sponge and crying about apples. He's glad that the show helps pay for groceries, because otherwise he'd never be able to afford buying this many eggs. 

_+4402101997:_ it is not isabela hawke.

Well, that won't do. Hawke frowns at his phone and quickly replies.

 _James:_ james 

_+4402101997:_ what? 

_James:_ call me james, fenris :) 

_+4402101997:_ okay *smiling emoji* 

Hawke glances behind himself as someone clears their throat. An old woman glares at him and he realizes that he's blocking the milk aisle. 

“Sorry,” he says, hoping she hasn't been there too long. He pushes his cart until he's only blocking the discount section — no one really wants fifty percent off of banana chips or shitty sparkling water, so he doesn't think he'll be a problem. 

When he looks at his phone again, Fenris has sent more texts. 

_Fenris:_ how are you doing? I saw that you and your sister are avoiding social media. is everything okay? 

How is Hawke supposed to answer that? _Yeah, everything is fine, it's just that my brother died three years ago to the day tomorrow and my mother hasn't been the same since and my sister is the only functional one in the family?_ No, Fenris would run like the wind at that. 

Hawke sighs and runs a hand over his face. Suddenly he feels tired, like all the energy has been drained from every atom of his being. The store’s radio begins playing some ad for _fresh bread, baked daily!_ and he feels an irrational surge of anger. It hits him harder than a car and he grits his teeth and grabs his cart, hurrying up so he can get out of the store sooner. 

It isn't until he's sitting in his beat-up, disaster of a car that he realizes he's been leaving Fenris unanswered. Hawke feels his heart leap into his throat as he scrolls through his phone. 

_Fenris:_ my apologies if you do not wish to discuss it. I understand that not all things are easy to share.

 _Fenris:_ you are a good man, james. take care. 

Hawke hangs his head, hitting the steering wheel against his forehead with full force. He swears loudly, smacking the wheel with his hand only to jump in his seat as the horn goes off. 

When he gets back to the apartment a painful thirty minutes later — fifteen minutes longer than usual because his nerves are shot all to hell and he had to pull over a few times to calm down — he's thankful beyond all measure that Mother isn't there. Bethany hears the door open and calls from the living room,

“James, do you need help?” 

“No, I'm fine!” He shouts back, three bags on each arm. He kicks the door closed and doesn't even bother trying to remove his shoes before heading to the kitchen. Hawke has to pass the living room to get there, though, and when Bethany sees him her eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. 

“Are you sure you're fine?” 

“Yep! Just gotta not drop anything — whoops!” Hawke slips on a forgotten dog toy, arms swinging as he tries to recover his balance. Bethany is up instantly, steadying him with surprising skill considering he's a good six inches taller. “Thanks,” Hawke says once he's no longer in danger of dropping everything in his arms. 

Bethany sighs and gives him a small smile. “We all know you're big and strong, James, but you can ask for help too.” She reaches up and pinches his cheek. “Dork.” 

Hawke pushes her away but he's not really as annoyed as he seems. “Whatever, _little_ sister.” He holds up his arms. The bags look like they're about to break with how much food has been stuffed inside. “Now, I have to go put away almost six dozen eggs and try to figure out if I've horribly ruined my chances with Fenris. Bye.” 

He walks away, ignoring Bethany’s increasingly loud and confused questions. 

#

 _James:_ sorry about that I was at the store and had to decide between six dozen and five dozen eggs

 _Fenris:_ what did you pick? *chicken emoji* *egg emoji* *frying pan emoji* 

_James:_ six dozen of course have to bother anders somehow 

_Fenris:_ do you talk to him outside of the competition? *pensive emoji* 

_James:_ maker no but it's the thought that counts 

_Fenris:_ indeed *thumbs up emoji* 

_James:_ who do you talk to outside of the show? 

_Fenris:_ *wine bottle emoji* *star emoji* *flower emoji* 

_Fenris:_ occasionally *dog emoji* 

_James:_ is the dog me? 

_Fenris:_ no, you would be *flannel emoji*

 _James:_ they have that emoji???? 

_James:_ you've changed my life this is the best thing that's ever happened to me 

_James:_ *flannel emoji* *flannel emoji* *flannel emoji* *flannel emoji*

 _Fenris:_ *smiling emoji* 

_James:_ *smiling emoji* 

#

On Wednesday, they go to visit Carver. The drive to the cemetery is short in reality but long to Hawke. He has the wheel, technically because it's his car they're taking but also because Leandra doesn't drive anymore and Bethany won't be good for the drive back. The trunk of the car is filled with an assortment of offerings — Mountain Dew in three disgusting flavors, a small hand-carved mabari figure, a bouquet of roses, among other things. 

Usually Hawke plays music while he drives, something to help him focus and stay calm and not rear-end the first idiot who cuts him off, but today it's quiet. The windows are half-down and the wind zips by, drowning out any chance for conversation. That is good, honestly, because if Leandra tries to talk about how Hawke dresses on the Great Ferelden Bake Off now he might get out of the car and walk back to the flat. 

Still, it's the most painful forty five minutes of his life, only behind the other four times they've had to make this drive together. 

When they get to the cemetery, no one else is there. It's beautiful out, not too hot and not too cold. There are bird calls in the distance. Hawke thinks, rather bitterly, that this is the kind of weather Carver loved. He always was running around outside, though he did much different things with his freedom and lack of parental oversight than his brother. 

Hawke carries the blanket, the picnic basket, and the bag containing the Mountain Dew. Bethany has her own gifts and Leandra carries the flowers. They're beautiful, even to someone as uncultured as Hawke. Bright yellow with a few white and purple streaks, healthy as a horse, vibrant against Leandra’s brown skin. 

Carver would have hated them. Hawke hates them because of that. 

The gravestone is simple. Carver is right next to Malcolm, but that hurt is just old enough that Hawke doesn't want to kick a rock or go drinking every time he sees it. Still, he nods to his father’s grave and runs his free hand over the top as the group walks by it. 

“Hi, Dad. Hi, Carver.” Hawke sets the blanket down and spreads it on the grass. He waits for Leandra to sit down before placing the picnic basket beside her. Bethany stays standing. “We brought you two some stuff.” 

Bethany puts the mabari carving on Carver’s gravestone. There are two others there, each worn down from rain and other weather. She sprinkles a little yeast and flour in front of Malcolm’s gravestone. 

“Hello, Father. James has been doing a lot of baking again. You'd be proud of him.” Bethany has a small smile on her face even though her eyes are tearing up. “I'm almost finished with my degree. Pre-med with a focus in pediatrics. I'm applying to medical schools. Mother thinks I can get into Val Royeaux University.” 

“You're very smart,” Leandra confirms. “Malcolm, you would be so happy to see how your children have grown.” 

“And Carver is rolling in his grave. It's okay, brother, today is about you. Just the way you'd like it.” Hawke pulls out the first litre of Mountain Dew, unscrews the cap, and pours half of it out in front of Carver’s grave. A bit splashes on the blanket and Leandra wrinkles her nose. Hawke lets a little more of the soda escape because of that. 

“Trinket wanted to come, but he doesn't like car rides. Maybe next year we’ll convince him to come with us,” Bethany says. They all know it won't happen. To get Trinket to the vet requires weeks of planning and cunning. Also, Hawke has to physically restrain Trinket. 

“You know, Carver, Mr. Morrison wanted us to give you this,” Leandra cuts in, opening her purse up and handing Hawke a small cloth bag. He doesn't question it as he puts it next to the mabari figure. “He said that it'll help you have better dreams, wherever you are.” 

There is a brief moment of silence as the three of them remember how Mr. Morrison can't even remember the day of the week, but he can recall that Carver has trouble sleeping ever since a concussion in middle school fucked up his brain. Carver always liked Mr. Morrison. They'd talk about the military together, talk about the good parts of Ferelden and argue about the bad. The only person more stubborn than Carver was their next door neighbor, after all. 

Hawke shakes his head, as if that will help clear the memory of having to tell friends and neighbors that Carver was coming home from Ostagar in a bodybag. 

“I'm back home now,” Hawke says. “Maybe for good. Got my degree, finally. History. You'd give me shit for that.” It says a lot about how Leandra is feeling that she doesn't chide him for cursing. “I'm competing on the Great Ferelden Bake Off. Yes, Varric is just as short as he looks. No, I have not told Leliana that she looks good in suit jackets. No, I will not make a cake that looks like a dick.” 

Bethany giggles. Hawke considers that a victory. He's pretty good at keeping track of them. 

“You'd like the competitors this year. Merrill is a sweetheart. Isabela is devilishly attractive and smart. Also, she puts alcohol in everything. You'd either love her or hate her honestly.” 

“Isabela would tease him endlessly just to see him blush,” Bethany points out. 

“Hm, true.” Hawke scratches at his chin. “There's this one ass, Anders. You'd probably try to find him and punch him. He lives by Amaranthine if you want to go haunt him. Make him dream about meat and cheese or something.”

“ _James,_ ” Leandra chides. He raises his hands in a universal what gesture. “Don't hog your brother. Bethany, tell him about your studies.” 

Hawke bites his lip. He hasn't told Carver about how Cullen rubs the back of his neck the same way Carver used to, or about how Sebastian offered to light a candle for Carver when he heard what week it was. He hasn't told Carver about how Fenris is even more intelligent and witty than Isabela or how Fenris’s smile is more precious than a thousand mabari puppies. He hasn't told Carver about how it's been two years since he's stolen anything and more since he's been out of jail and that every day he wonders if Carver would still be alive if Hawke had just gotten his shit together faster. If Hawke hadn't been such a shit brother and pushed away his parents and chased off his siblings so they wouldn't be like him. 

“Okay,” Hawke says. He takes a swig of the Mountain Dew and pours the rest out.


	5. Desserts, Patisserie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally this was going to include "Chocolate" which is Episode 9 of the show, but the chapter grew wildly out of hand and it's already late so.... Here it is. 
> 
> The final chapter count for the fic is staying the same for now, but if it changes just know that it's intentional and means you're getting more fic anyways ahaha. Speaking of more fic, keep an eye out for a companion fic/series continuation with extras! :)
> 
> Enjoy!

The magnificent green lawn hosting the Great Ferelden Bake Off’s tent comes into view, Cassandra and Varric standing side-by-side. He is eating a popsicle and Cassandra has a slightly disgusted look on her face. 

“Varric, what are you eating?” She asks, not even glancing in his direction.

“What, this?” Varric holds up the popsicle and grins at Cassandra. “It’s delicious. And it’s what this week’s challenges are about.” 

Cassandra huffs. “I do not think this week is about sugary ice-based treats.”

“No, but it is about sugar!” Varric and Cassandra both look straight in the camera. “It’s dessert week.”

“Welcome,” they say in harmony, “to the Great Ferelden Bake Off.” 

The camera shot switches to one of the tent itself and shows the remaining contestants — all six of them — walking towards the tent. At the front are Hawke, Isabela, and Merrill. Fenris and Sebastian chat behind them and Anders follows behind. 

“Well, I didn’t think I’d get this far!” Merrill says as an interview with her plays. She has a pretty daisy brooch on her green scarf. “But I am really glad I am. Everyone is still very sweet and I’m glad that we all met.” 

Next, an interview with Hawke. His hair is in a sloppy ponytail, nothing like its usual crisp form. The flannel, however, is one hundred percent him. “Do I think I’ll win?” He shrugs. “Do I want to win?” He grins. “Oh yeah. I want to win it all.”

“Desserts are great,” Isabela practically shouts in her interview. She has a big grin on her face. “Do you know how much alcohol you can put in desserts? So much. If Varric is able to drive after this, I failed my duty.”

The contestants all appear back in the tent at their respective stations. Hawke has an uncharacteristic scowl on his face and Isabela keeps glancing at him as the judges and hosts step forward. Leliana and Josephine exchange looks before Josephine claps her hands together.

“Leliana and I wanted to congratulate you six on being the final six contestants. It’s been a long and arduous process filled with setbacks and surprises, but you should all be very proud of getting here.” Josephine begins clapping and the others join in. The camera swoops around the tent, taking in everyone’s reaction. 

Merrill looks positively delighted while Anders appears like he would rather eat a chicken than clap. Soon enough, though, the clapping dies down and Cassandra clears her throat. 

“Of course, this means the challenges will only grow more difficult from here on out. Today is dessert week and for your signature challenge, we would like you to bake for us a dozen identical filled cupcakes. They can be any size and any flavor, but there must be twelve of them, they must be identical, and there must be a surprise inside.” Cassandra clears her throat. 

She and Varric both countdown together and as soon as they say _bake,_ everyone is off to begin. 

Sebastian lunges for his mixer and drops the bowl out. He quickly begins measuring ingredients out and putting them aside, glancing every once in awhile at a handwritten recipe. It’s been laminated so the beautiful cursive isn’t ruined when he accidentally spills a bit of milk on it. 

“Whoops,” he says with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “Looks like my nerves are getting to me after all.” Sebastian continues preparing ingredients and checking his measurements even as he keeps talking. “I tried this recipe out on several coworkers of mine and they all adored it, so hopefully the judges do as well.”

Cassandra’s voice comes in as narration, the camera still following Sebastian in the tent. “Sebastian is making chocolate and orange cupcakes with a cream cheese filling. On top will be a cream cheese frosting as well as a dusting of orange shavings.” 

The sound from the tent returns right as something breaks in the background. Instantly the camera shifts to a different angle. Merrill stands over a broken bowl, what was the dry ingredients for her cupcakes scattered all over the floor. A few tears appear in Merrill’s eyes but she brushes them away as Varric and Cassandra run over. 

“Oh, that’s all right, Daisy,” Varric reassures her. “Come on, let’s get you another bowl and some more flour. It’ll get cleaned up.” He gently takes her arm and pulls her away from the mess as Cassandra, just in view of the camera, gestures for someone to come over. 

“I don’t know what happened,” Merrill tells Varric. The camera follows the two over to her station. Varric checks her hands but they’re clear of any glass — they don’t have so much as a scratch. “I was perfectly fine and then I realized that I needed more saffron and then — poof! The bowl just dropped straight from my hands.” 

“It’s okay,” Varric reassures her. “You’re going to remix your dry ingredients and keep baking, Daisy. You aren’t hurt, nobody got hurt, and you still have over two hours to finish. You’re going to be fine.” Merrill nods wordlessly and Varric pats her on the back. “Now go, go!” 

Merrill cracks her knuckles and gets to work. 

On the other side of the tent, Fenris sneezes. 

Sebastian glances behind himself and smiles at Fenris. “Bless you.” 

Fenris begins to reply but just sneezes again. He shakes his head and looks at his ingredients as if they’re to blame for his sudden problems. A moment passes before he decides that the fit has ended and he returns to his cupcakes. To no one’s surprise, there is a plentiful amount of apples on his station. 

Fenris glances up as Leliana and the others approach. His headband is falling a little so he nudges it back into its proper place, leaving a smear of dough on his forehead. 

“Hello,” he greets everyone. 

“Hello, Fenris. What do you have for us today?” Cassandra asks. 

“I am making vanilla apple cupcakes with chunks of hazelnut. There will also be hazelnut chocolate frosting on top and in the center will be liquid caramel.” 

“Isn't the caramel going to be difficult to add? I assume you're doing it after the bake,” Josephine questions. 

“Yes. I will inject it using this.” Fenris reaches across his station and holds up a rather large syringe. It looks almost like something out of a costume shop. 

Varric laughs and claps Cassandra on the back. “Now, would you look at that. You don't see that every day.” 

“No, you do not.” Cassandra adopts a slight smirk on her face. “Maybe now we’ll have something large enough to feed you all your medicine.” She chuckles as Varric begins to protest. 

Josephine laughs, much in the way a mother would when confronted with squabbling children. “We will leave you to it,” she tells Fenris. “And remember to watch your cupcakes like a hawk!” 

As if on cue, the entire right side of the tent — which is everyone but Merrill and Hawke — look at Hawke. He is glumly watching his cupcake mix, expression not unlike that of a man with three weeks left to live. He doesn’t even look up to try to make a joke and it's such a shocking difference that Isabela actually almost drops her tin on the floor. Her mouth is a perfect oh of surprise. 

Varric and Cassandra exchange a look. Josephine clears her throat and mumbles something about moving on. With that, the hosts and judges shuffle on to talk to Anders. The rest of the tent proceeds as normal.

Fenris, however, allows himself a moment to really look at Hawke. He has such a grim expression — it makes Fenris stumble out of surprise. Hawke — everyone knows that this week is difficult for him. Sebastian advised Fenris to simply be a little kinder to Hawke, but Fenris feels like he could do so much more. It is disturbing, almost, to see Hawke not smiling. If Fenris can do anything to fix that, he will. 

It's only, he has no idea how to make Hawke smile.

#

_Fenris:_ I know you are having a difficult week. If you wish to talk about it, I am here. 

_James:_ Thanks, I appreciate it *apple emoji* 

_Fenris:_ *question mark emoji* 

_James:_ It’s you! 

_Fenris:_ *flannel emoji* *dog emoji* *dragon emoji* *bread emoji* *laughing emoji* 

_James:_ ??? 

_Fenris:_ They are emojis that remind me of you. 

_Fenris:_ James? 

_Fenris:_ My apologies, I did not mean to distress you. 

_James:_ Hi, Fenris, this is Bethany! My brother just threw his phone and screamed, so I just wanted to let you know he might not reply for a whilkgjhihkgngivnfjgirnguv,@ <×;”7:94,=8”,@:”[%,%>^^ 

_James:_ Sorry about that, my sister stole my phone. I still can't believe she insisted to come with me this week. 

_James:_ I probably should go, but I'll see you tomorrow! Good night. 

_James:_ *smiling emoji* 

_Fenris:_ Good night. 

_Fenris:_ *Zzz emoji* *smiling emoji* 

#

“All right, bakers. You masterfully created cupcakes and successfully showed us Spanische Windtorte.” A smattering of laughter breaks out through the tent. Cassandra offers a rare, genuine smile. “Some more than others. Now, however, is the showstopper. We want to see something delicious, technically amazing, and most importantly, something that will take our breath away.” 

“Today we want you to make an Orlesian roulade. It must be at least fifteen centimeters long and have decoration on the outside,” Varric continues. He claps his hands and gives everyone a toothy grin. “Get ready. Get set—”

“Bake!” He and Cassandra shout. The camera swings around, showing an aerial shot of the tent. As the remaining contestants begin to mix ingredients and suffer, Varric provides narration explaining the challenge further. 

“So an Orlesian roulade is like — it's a rolled sponge with icing on the inside and outside. This is particularly challenging because the bakers need to be able to do this without anything melting. It will definitely require a lot of time management,” he explains. 

The camera follows Sebastian as he begins to prepare the sponge. He looks fairly focused and actually doesn't notice the judges walking over at first. 

“My apologies,” he says once he realizes they're waiting for him. “I was just focused on my measurements. I am using a recipe that my — my mother used. I remember her making it as a child and I do not want to let her memory down.” 

“Your mother? Well, if her recipes are anywhere close to the quality of your grandfather’s, then you have nothing to fear,” Josephine reassures him. 

Sebastian nods and quickly launches into an explanation of his olive and orange frosting. It's strange to say the least, but he reassures the judges that it'll be delicious. 

“Well, I'm excited. It sounds like a real Starkhaven classic,” Varric says. 

The camera jumps around the tent as the judges move on. Isabela is quickly whisking something while Merrill adjusts the heat on one of her burners. Hawke is cutting something but the board is obscured by his mixer. 

“With the competition heating up, some bakers are truly pulling out all the stops. Others, however, stick to their tried and true techniques,” Cassandra narrates as the camera shifts. 

The shot focuses on Fenris, who is unsurprisingly using apples in his bake. His black headband has been switched out for a maroon one, but other than that his clothes are pretty much adhere to one color pallet: dark. He looks up as the judges approach his station. 

“Hello, Fenris,” Josephine says. “What are you making for us today?” 

“I am making a sour apple and sweet caramel roulade with chocolate frosting. The entire roulade will be shaped like a chest with an apple made of caramel on the top,” Fenris replies. 

“Oh! I am excited to see how that works.” Josephine has a warm expression, clearly genuinely excited. 

“Now, how well do you think you have your time managed?” Leliana asks. “Your technical had so much potential, but it was very — sloppy.” 

Fenris nods. “I have made this several times at my flat and it worked every time. I am confident in my presentation.” 

“Good. You have been one of the stronger bakers, but they're catching up to you. Don't get sloppy now.” Leliana nods and, after a bit more chatter, the judges move on. 

After hearing about Anders’s vegan sponge and cruelty-free icing, Isabela’s rum-infused concoction, and Merrill’s interesting and rather unique combination of wild rosemary, sage, and huckleberry, the judges wind up at Hawke’s station.

He has a bowl of evenly cut apple slices set to one side while vanilla extract reeks over everything he touches. Varric raises an eyebrow as Cassandra coughs. 

“So, Hawke, what do you have for us today?” Varric asks. He tries to casually lean against the counter, but he isn't tall enough and it ends up looking like he's trying to do wall push-ups. 

“Hello!” Hawke looks like he hasn't gotten enough sleep in the last week and the make-up department has done an admirable, but ultimately futile, attempt at covering up the dark circles under his eyes. “I am making a classic roulade with apple and vanilla as the main flavors. My inspiration is, uh, cherry trees. So the frosting is pink and there's going to be a bit of white chocolate bark. Apple-infused frosting will help—” 

“So let me get this straight,” Cassandra interrupts. “You are making a _cherry tree_ inspired Orlesian dish… without cherry?” 

There's a moment where one can see Hawke’s brain process what he's about to say. Then, with all the confidence of a newborn calf, he gives the judges and hosts a smile. 

“Yes?” 

Varric bursts into a deep, belly laugh, to the point where he actually is holding onto the counter to keep himself upright. Even Leliana and Josephine look amused. But they all ask a few more questions before going to sit down again. 

The camera settles to take them all in as they begin to chat about how the weekend has gone. Varric is carefully placed in the very front of the shot, but it takes some clever positioning to avoid cutting everyone else off at the chin. 

“So, judges, what are your thoughts headed into this challenge?” Varric asks. 

“I think that Merrill and Hawke are in danger of going home,” Leliana answers. “Merrill’s cupcakes were so soggy and her technical was at the bottom. And Hawke has continued to struggle the last few weeks. I know he keeps coming up, but he really has to find his footing soon. It’s do or die.” 

“If we are talking about the technical, then Anders must also be brought up,” Cassandra points out. 

Josephine nods. “He is continuing to refuse to use dairy or other animal products. It is admirable to see him so dedicated to a cause, but it is weakening his bakes.” 

“Who are the strongest bakers?” Varric asks, switching focus. 

“Sebastian,” Leliana replies immediately. “He has done well almost every week and I cannot think of any time when I thought he would be sent home.” 

“Fenris has also been very strong,” Josephine adds. “He has had a few stumbles, but I've enjoyed most of his bakes and I still don't think that we’ve seen his full potential.” 

There's a lull as Leliana nods in agreement and Cassandra and Varric both think about what to say next. In the tent, the bakers have mostly started to put their sponge in the oven. A few are making actual decorations — Fenris has some impressive caramel work going on while Hawke is spreading chocolate on a baking pan. 

Isabela pours herself a shot as she waits for her sponge to bake. Sebastian walks by, heading to the fridge, but stops when he sees her. There's a wordless moment when the two look at each other. Then, carefully, Isabela pours a second shot and hands it out to Sebastian. He takes it from her and downs it in one gulp. 

Varric breaks out into a laugh. Cassandra looks into the camera with a deeply unamused expression. 

From her station, Merrill lets out a shout as she yanks open her oven. Thick, black smoke begins to curl out of it and everyone else turns to look. The sponge is not only burnt, it’s absolutely destroyed — Merrill can barely reach into the oven to pull it out. 

“I — I don’t understand? I thought that I still had five more minutes!” She shouts. 

“What happened, kitten?” Isabela asks, abandoning her station to go check on her friend. 

Merrill swallows and waves her hands in the air, the remnants of her sponge sitting on her station like a black stain on her otherwise flawless bake. “I looked away for a second because I wanted to make sure I had my garnish set, and when I looked back there was all this smoke! It’s completely ruined,” she wails. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Isabela promises, rubbing Merrill’s back. “Do you have any extra sponge?” 

“A — a little. but there’s not enough time—” 

“Come on, kitten.” Isabela uses a towel to throw the burnt sponge in the trash. “We have some sponge to bake. You aren’t going home this week.”

“Are you sure?” Merrill looks like she’s about to cry.

“I’m certain. Did you see Anders’s technical? You did much better than that.”

At his station, Fenris sneezes. 

#

_@fereldenbakeoffstats tweeted:_ Episode 7, Desserts, saw Merrill was eliminated. She has gotten farther than any other female elf in the competition's history. Sebastian, Fenris, Anders, Isabela, and Hawke remain. 

_@fereldenbakeoffstats tweeted:_ With Fenris and Anders making it into the final five, Fenris is the first non-Ferelden born elf and Anders is the first vegan to get this far. Congratulations!

_@yestruthsteller tweeted:_ not to start drama but did anyone else see how moody Hawke was today??? I saw that he and his sister are off social media this week what's up w that? 

_@thatoneguy replied:_ idk but Fenris seemed out of it too 

_@meatisachoice tweeted:_ I cannot believe that the producers of @the_great_ferelden_bake_off are so blatantly anti-vegan that they would sabotage Anders like that!!!! Absolutely infuriating. 

_@meatismurder replied:_ there has to be some kind of ethics committee or board because this is blatant favoritism against Anders!!!! 

_@meatisachoice and @fuckyeahvegans liked this_

_@dagger_dagger_dagger replied:_ hey do the world a favor and delete your Twitter 

_@fenrisdefensesquad liked this_

#

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Hawke admits. “This only worked once when I tried it at home.” 

Like last week, Hawke looks like a disaster. His arms are covered in flour but his fingers are sticky with dough. It seems like he missed an entire clump of hair when getting ready, because long strands keep falling down in his face instead of remaining in his ponytail. He keeps trying to push it aside while also prepare the dough — which is taking longer than he thought it would. 

Besides the obscene amount of puff pastry dough, Hawke also has several cuts of pork and bacon on his station. Next to it is a literal slab of butter and a carton of goat cheese. Hawke denies that his choices of ingredients for the signature challenge have anything to do with antagonizing certain bakers under the tent, but… 

Well, he can still remember the victorious and cruel look on Anders’s face when Merrill was eliminated instead of him. Hawke’s not doing anything wrong, anyways, just digging down to his traditional Ferelden roots. 

At Sebastian’s table, his dough is practically swimming in melted butter. 

“I don’t know why this is so difficult,” he confesses as he smiles at the camera. “I have done this many times before. It should be child’s play for me.” 

“Perhaps it is the heat,” Fenris calls over. His dough is chilling so he’s working on his filling instead. For once he has set aside apple and is instead working on cutting a few herbs up to help spice the quail meat and egg that will fill his pastry. “I do not remember the tent being this warm in the past.” He sneezes. 

“Bless you,” Sebastian says. 

“Thank you,” Fenris replies. 

“For once, I would love it to rain!” Isabela admits as the camera turns to her. “I never thought I would miss the rain, but here we are.” She glances around and narrows her eyes at Anders. “But he looks like he’s having a fun time.”

Anders is speeding along as he works on his vegan pastry dough. His savory fillings are all vegetables as well as a few spices, but he hasn’t even included tofu as a protein. Instead, he’s decided to add potato to give the pastry a bit more support. 

“I know that last week was a challenge, but I refuse to be eliminated,” he tells the camera. “I’d just quit if I was one of the others. It would make this all much easier and save us the trouble of two more weeks of this.” 

The shot changes to an interview with Hawke. He leans against a tree and between the wind blowing through his hair and his rolled-up sleeves, he looks uncomfortably similar to some kind of model. If, of course, red and black flannels had models. 

Hawke bursts into laughter. “Oh, right, Anders believes he’s the best. Well, I don’t know if I’m the best in that tent, but if I go home before Anders I’ll eat my shoes.” He looks down. “And these are real leather boots. Quality material. Probably a bit chewy.”

Back in the tent, Sebastian lets out an uncharacteristic curse as his pastry dough continues to give him trouble. “Maker forgive me, but I have no idea what I'm doing wrong and I'm losing my temper. I've been watching my dough like a hawk but—” 

“Caw, caw!” Hawke shouts from his station. He gives Sebastian a thumbs up. For a moment, everyone in the tent is absolutely certain that Sebastian is going to strangle Hawke. “Er, you're doing great buddy. Keep up the good work!” Hawke adds, throwing a second thumbs up in Sebastian’s direction. 

Fenris, in that moment, wonders why he has fallen in love with this disaster. 

#

“You’re so dramatic,” Isabela tells him while the bakers wait for the tent to be cleaned and set for the technical. Fenris groans and buries his face in his hands, but Isabela takes that as a sign to continue. “He’s not a bad person. He’s a bit hairy for my taste and he probably drools as much as his mabari, but he’s funny. And he’s got a great… laugh.” 

“Your advice has been considered and ignored,” Fenris says, not looking up from his hands. 

Isabela giggles and pats him on the back. Hawke is taking advantage of the break to go to the bathroom, leaving Sebastian to argue the merits of Chantry politics with Anders. Usually, Fenris would be throwing himself into the conversation but for once he’s sitting off to the side. He looks a bit sick, honestly, and Isabela feels like she should be pitying him more before remembering that this is Fenris and he wouldn’t want her to pity him just because he can’t handle a crush. 

Even if that crush is on the very handsome, very charming, very wonderful James Hawke. 

“Really, what are you so worried about?” 

This does prompt Fenris to glance up, glaring at Isabela through his fingers. “He could hate me,” he says. 

“Oh please. He doesn’t hate you anymore than he hates mabari or — or dragons.” 

“But he could,” Fenris argues. Isabela gives him a look. “Fine. What if — there must be someone else. He’s only known me for—” 

“For eight weeks. That’s a long time to know someone, Fenris. And you two spend every weekend together.” Isabela leans back in her chair and stretches. “Seriously, Fenris, You’re making a big deal out of nothing. He’s definitely curious about you. Ask him out. The worst he could say is no.” 

“But then we have to spend every weekend together.” Fenris is aware that it sounds like he is whining. He also can't bring himself to care. “This is — this is all pointless. He lives in Lothering. When this is all done, I’ll never see him again.” 

Isabela catches his gaze and raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Fenris, are you really being this dramatic over a man who Tweeted a picture of his mabari in his flannel?” 

Fenris makes a face that is definitely not a pout. “Trinket looked very happy in it. And James was—” 

“James? Oh, Fenris, you didn't tell me that you called him James!” Isabela squeals as Fenris,an expression of utter mortification on his face, lunges for her. She starts laughing as he tries to cover up her mouth, but she’s all long legs and quick reflexes and truth be told, he isn’t trying very hard. 

Still, it means Isabela can keep teasing him which she does with glee and gusto. “What else has James said? Oh, oh, has he invited you to visit him in Lothering yet? Have you two made plans to spend a night together, sleep in the same bed? Mhmm, those arms—” 

“Who's arms are we talking about?” A far too familiar voice asks. 

Fenris yelps and almost punches Isabela in the stomach, but fortunately she twists out of the way right in time. He ends up with bruised knuckles and a bruised ego but he still nods as Hawke walks over. His flannel sleeves have been pushed up to his elbows and the first three buttons are undone, revealing a white T-shirt underneath. 

“We’re talking about your arms, sweet thing,” Isabela says. She lounges in her chair and grins at Hawke. “Do you work out or do you just get all hot and sweaty in the bakery?” 

Hawke, with far more composure than he has any right to, grins. “Oh you know, you gain a lot of muscle doing what I do.” 

“And what is that?” Isabela asks. 

“Control Trinket no doubt,” Fenris mumbles. Hawke beams at him and Fenris feels a bright flush travel up his cheeks to the tips of his ears. 

“There’s a reason you’re my favorite,” Hawke replies. 

Isabela looks at Fenris and grins a wide, toothy grin, that is far too unsettling for his taste. He flips her off. Hawke laughs. 

_Oh,_ Fenris thinks, _that made him laugh?_ Even though Hawke is in a much better mood this week, Fenris can't shake the memory of his deep scowl and the dark circles under his eyes. It was — it was unnatural. Hawke and happiness just feel tied together to Fenris, as if Hawke can't possibly experience any other emotion. That's not true, of course, but Fenris is glad that the bad mood seems to have passed without issue. 

Okay, the circles under Hawke’s eyes are still there but the smile is back and that's what matters the most. 

“So what do you think the technical will be?” Hawke asks right as Anders shouts, 

“If you truly cared for people, you wouldn't condone the organized surveillance of mages!” 

“It's a simple program meant to identify the number of magic capable people in an area in case of magical incident,” Sebastian argues. “It is the same as anyone signing up for government benefits—” 

“Except you’re required because of religious dogma!” 

“You're required because mages can destroy lives with their minds!” Sebastian throws his hands up and pushes himself to his feet. He ignores Anders’s muttering and sits down with the other three. “Why did he have to make it to the final five?” 

“Didn’t you hear, he’s the epitome of diversity on the show,” Fenris deadpans. 

“Well he didn't get this far on his cooking ability,” Hawke mumbles. Fenris snorts, lips quirking up in a half smile. “Sebastian, remember to freeze your pastry right so that we send Anders home. I don't care if I don't get to the final three as long as he doesn’t.” 

“I don't know why my pastry dough was giving me such grief,” Sebastian replies. “I've made it a hundred times and never had that many problems. And it wasn’t the weather. None of you had those problems.” 

“You’re a better baker than him,” Fenris reassures Sebastian. “And he never does well on technicals.” 

“I don’t know, my signature—” 

“It’s pastry week. There's nothing vegan about pastry. You’ll do fine.” Isabela gives Sebastian a gentle slug on the shoulder. “Now come on, do you think I should make pumpkin pie for my next video or pumpkin muffins?” 

#

“You five have puzzled through puff pastry, mastered mixing, and flown through fillings. You triumphed in the technical and you shocked our judges during the showstopper,” Varric says as everyone sits in the tent. The judges and hosts are standing but five chairs have been brought in for the contestants while they wait. 

“I get the good job this week,” Cassandra continues. “I get to tell you who is star baker. This baker blew us all away today with a showstopper that practically blew fire and burned the competition to the ground. Hawke, congratulations on being this week’s star baker.” 

There is a joyous applause as Hawke looks at everyone, a stunned expression pasted to his face. He looks between Fenris and the judges, overwhelmed and trying to take everything in at once. He actually mouths the words _it should have been you_ at Fenris, but Fenris shakes his head. 

_You deserve it,_ Fenris mouths back. 

“I have the less pleasant job,” Varric admits once the clapping has died down. “While you all have proven yourselves over and over, we cannot take all of you to next week. The baker going home today is…” 

The camera angle jumps rapidly, focusing largely between Anders and Sebastian. Finally, it returns to Varric. 

“Sebastian.” A chorus of groans break out. “Sorry, you are not going to join us next week,” Varric tells him, a truly apologetic look on his face. 

“You have delighted us with many of your creations, but this week your pastry was a little too crispy and your showstopper wasn't up to par,” Leliana explained. 

The camera shows everyone but Anders hugging Sebastian. Anders gives him a nod, which seems to be as much interaction as Sebastian wants anyways. 

“Sebastian is an amazing baker,” Josephine explains over narration. The shot still captures goodbyes as Isabela wraps Sebastian in her arms and refuses to let go. “But this week he made several uncharacteristic mistakes and unfortunately it’s down to the best of the best.” 

“I am sad,” Sebastian admits in an interview. He shrugs slightly. “But the Maker works in mysterious ways and we must trust in Him.” 

“Next week I need to stay on top of my bakes,” Anders says in his interview. “I thought that maybe I would go home today, but—” He shrugs. “I guess someone out there is looking out for me.”

#

_@belatheboozybaker tweeted:_ My next guest will be none other than the fantastic Sebastian Vale! He might have been eliminated from #gfbo but he’ll always have a place in our hearts. 

_@ fereldenbakeoffstats:_ Any comments @Hawkeguy @applestoapples or @belatheboozybaker about Anders making it to e9? 

_@hawkeguy replied:_ No I don't agree with eliminating Sebastian, but I trust the judges.

_@applestoapples replied:_ *star emoji* is a good baker and a better man. He will be fine. I will miss him in the tent however. 

_@belatheboozybaker replied:_ what they said.


	6. Chocolate, The Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while. Whoops. 
> 
> Anyways, the more observant of you will notice this is now part of a series! I've created a separate fic for side stories and connected bits that didn't make the final cut. I'll be adding more to it as this main fic gets wrapped up. 
> 
> You'll also notice there's one more chapter after this. You'll see.

“What’s the most popular candy in Ferelden?” Cassandra asks. She and Varric stand outside the tent, the green lawn at their feet. Behind them, a sheep bleats. 

“Well, if I had to guess if say mabari biscuits! Everyone I meet has a mabari,” Varric replies. 

“ _Ugh._ No, it's chocolate.” 

“Sure you aren't talking about Orlais, because—” 

“It's chocolate week,” Cassandra shouts rather desperately. “The last four bakers will have to melt the judges’ hearts as they craft scrumptious chocolate creations.” 

“You know, that wasn't too bad,” Varric says. 

“... thank you. Ahem. Where was I?”

“A beautiful description of today’s challenges.”

Cassandra coughs. “Right. Well, today on chocolate week we’ll be challenging the competitors to bake and cook everything from classic concoctions to creative combinations. Let’s go check in with the bakers.” 

The camera swoops upwards to the sky before coming back down and angling at the four remaining bakers. Isabela and Fenris are in the front laughing at something Hawke says. Anders follows behind, a moody grimace on his face. 

“Well, I think we all were shocked about Sebastian going home,” Isabela says in a voice over. “He was the best baker of all of us. But everyone can have a bad week and now I just need to make sure I don't.” 

In the tent, the bakers take their place. Fenris has switched sides to join Hawke on the left. Hawke waves at him and Fenris waves back before turning around and blushing violently. Isabela gives Hawke finger guns, which he returns with gusto. 

Cassandra clears her throat and the two of them settle down into something resembling order. 

“Welcome, bakers, to the semifinal.” Josephine smiles at the contestants. “You have all proven time and time again that you deserve to be here. Now, however, we expect the best of the best in your bakes.” 

“This week is chocolate week,” Leliana continues. “And for your signature challenge, we would like a classic from each of you.” 

“Leliana and Josephine would like you to make them a chocolate glaze cake. It must be at least fifteen centimeters in diameter and have a glaze frosting,” Cassandra explains. “Everything else — flavor, additional decorations, and so on — is up to you.” 

“You have two and a half hours,” Varric adds. “Get ready… set…” 

He and Cassandra speak together. “Bake!” 

The camera flips around and captures the four bakers rushing to get started. Fenris’s station is void of apples and Anders seems to have several bags of powder — not flour — on his. Isabela, to no one’s surprise, has practically set up her own brewery at her station. 

“So here’s the thing,” she explains as she measures sugar into a bowl. “The first thing I ever baked — and I remember this because it was the first time I remember my mother smiling — was a chocolate cake. And my favorite food is actually a liquor infused chocolate that you can only get at this one store in Antiva. So you could say I'm a bit — a bit particular about my chocolate.” 

Isabela flashes the camera a dazzling smile, her gold lip piercing catching the light. She holds up a bottle of what looks like rum — all the labels have been removed and replaced with generic titles such as “Ferelden scotch” or “Tevinter red.” 

“Are you going to save some for me?” Hawke asks, right as he pours his flour a little too fast and half of it ends up on him instead of the bowl. 

“Maybe once you clean yourself off,” Isabela replies with a laugh. 

Hawke shrugs and keeps pouring. 

At his station, Anders is currently measuring out potato flour. “It has a different texture but I’ve found that it works better with soy milk,” he explains. “I feel so close to victory, I can practically taste it!” 

Cassandra begins to speak as a voice over, the camera remaining on Anders as he mixes his dry ingredients. “Anders is making a vegan chocolate cake with a vegan cream topping. For extra flavor, there is mint and vanilla extract in the cake.” 

“I think I have a good chance of winning,” Anders says in an interview. He stands in front of a pond, a few ducks quacking in the background. “There’s only four of us left and I am, by all accounts, the best baker. So I don’t have any doubts that I’ll win.” 

“To win, Anders will need more than his confidence in his skills,” Cassandra continues as the camera switches to focus on Anders in the tent. Anders is beginning to add his wet ingredients together — soy milk and egg plus a few other additions. “He’s facing a unique challenge, just like he has all season.” 

“The thing about a good cake is that it must be moist on the inside, especially a chocolate cake,” Josephine explains in her interview. “Anders has surprised us so far with his abilities, but he will have trouble using vegan chocolate.” 

“I think that if there ever was a baker who has gotten here with skill and a bit of luck, it's Anders,” Leliana tells the camera. “He is talented, but the others have also made some key mistakes. We will have to see if his luck holds.” 

#

“Isabela, can I have a slice of your cake?” Fenris asks, holding out his plate almost shyly. She grins and wraps an arm across his shoulders, pulling him close enough to press a kiss to his temple. “ _Bela,_ ” Fenris whines. 

“ _Fenris,_ ” she mimics. “You can have as many slices as you want. This is celebration cake.” 

Fenris raises an eyebrow at her, but he doesn't push her off and he seems almost pleased with the casual contact. 

“It's chocolate week, Fenris. Chocolate week. Do you know what the least vegan thing in the world is?” 

“A slaughterhouse, most likely,” Fenris deadpans. 

Isabela rolls her eyes. “All right, fine. But you know what else isn't vegan? Chocolate. Anders is screwed!” She jumps with glee and even Fenris cracks a small smile. 

Indeed, it is hard to be concerned with how things have gone so far. Anders had a decent signature, but everyone else did far better. Isabela, true to her brag earlier, crushed it. Fenris knows he should be upset being in third, but he can't be that sad when Hawke is so happy being second. 

Everyone in the competition, crew included, is waiting for the main tent to get cleaned up for the technical. Anders is trying to convince two poor crew members to convert to veganism — they both look too terrified of insulting him to leave. Aveline and her camera crew are chatting among themselves while they wait for their next assignment. 

Behind her, Hawke is laughing with Varric about some bad joke. The two each have a slice of Hawke’s dragon fire chile chocolate cake — Fenris must look at Hawke a little too long because Isabela nudges him and grins. 

“You know, he still has some cake left,” she points out. 

“No,” Fenris tells her. 

“Fenris, you're such a disaster.” 

An expression of moody acceptance flickers over Fenris’s face before he settles on a more neutral apathy. “It is easy for you to say. You — you speak about your feelings openly.” 

“And there's nothing stopping you from doing the same thing,” Isabela insists. “Have you tried telling him you’re interested? At all?” 

“... I told him that Trinket looked cute in his flannel.” 

“Ugh, Sebastian was right—” 

“What?” 

“Uh, nothing!” Isabela corrects, quickly untangling herself from Fenris. “Oh, Hawke!” She waves at him and he waves back. Varric clasps Hawke’s arm — which is about the highest Varric can reach — and tells him something. Hawke laughs as Varric walks off to talk to the judges. 

To Fenris’s absolute horror, Hawke starts to walk over. 

“Bela, no!” Fenris hisses. 

“Bela, _yes,_ ” Isabela replies. 

“What’s up?” Hawke asks. “Did you need something?” 

“Fenris and I are having an argument and we want you to settle it,” Isabela lies. 

“Yeah? What's the argument about?” 

“Yes, Isabela, what is it we are talking about?” Fenris looks at her, hoping his expression conveys exactly how disappointed he is in her. 

If she notices — which she most likely does — or cares — which she almost certainly does not — it doesn't show. Isabela grins a toothy grin and immediately goes to attach herself to Hawke. 

“So, Fenris and I were talking about the best way to woo a man,” she explains. 

“R-Really?” 

“ _Really._ Now, I think that you really need to work your assets and your qualities, but Fenris isn't convinced.” Isabela makes a suggestive gesture when she says _assets_ and _qualities_ as if it isn't clear enough what she means. “Fenris thinks that it’s all about the soul.” 

Hawke is giving Fenris A Look — and the capitals aren't just mental. Fenris feels himself blushing and he forces his expression into the closest thing to casual neutrality that he can manage. It still doesn't make Hawke’s gaze — those deep and warm brown eyes — any easier to look at. Fenris’s stomach churns and he has an unpleasant memory to the one and only time he went sailing and threw up an hour in. 

He really hopes he doesn't throw up on Hawke. 

“So, Hawke, what do you think catches a man’s eye the best?” Isabela prompts, nudging him slightly with a casual bump of her hips. 

There's a good minute where Hawke doesn't say anything, his eyes still glued onto Fenris. Isabela casually coughs once, twice, and then Hawke shakes his head. 

“S-sorry, I completely tuned out. What were you saying?” 

“ _Ugh._ ” Isabela pushes herself away from Hawke and dramatically flips her head. “You two are hopeless.” She walks away, heading over to Aveline and the camera crew. 

Fenris blinks. Hawke has an utterly confused expression on his face. 

“What did I do?” 

#

 _Hawke:_ Isabela wtf was that 

_Isabela:_ if you can't figure it out you're on your own 

_Isabela:_ maker why couldn't Sebastian still be here he could maybe get it through your thick head 

_Isabela:_ but no, Anders the fucking vegan had to get through instead and now I'm supposed to work my magic 

_Isabela:_ but it's impossible I swear are you two doing this on purpose

 _Isabela:_ if you don't want it into the final I swear I will come to Lothering and kick your ass myself

 _Isabela:_ just

 _Isabela:_ UGH

 _Hawke:_ …? 

_Hawke:_ wait, are you texting me from the bathroom? 

_Hawke:_ Bela? 

_Hawke:_ Bela??? 

#

“I'm only going to say it once, but _fuck_ technicals,” Hawke complains. His apron seems to have more chocolate on it than his station does. He is trying to melt chocolate, but it isn't looking liquid at all. “I am a perfectly good baker.” 

“Then prove it,” Fenris drawls, but there's a small smile on his face and Hawke laughs. 

At her station, Isabela is having trouble with her mix. She curses as the bowl refuses to heat and bring the liquid inside to a boil. Anders looks like he is about to tear his hair out and use it either in his bake or to strangle someone — quite possibly Fenris, who seems to be having the least difficulty out of anyone else in the tent. 

Fenris actually has the expression of someone baking in his own house. All he's missing is soft classical music playing in the background and a serene smile. As it is, his face is still serious but more relaxed. Certainly a contrast to the other three, whose combined stress levels could power small nations. 

“A souffle is difficult under time constraints, but I have made many of them before. This is simply… a new environment.” Fenris shrugs. 

“Oh fuck this—” The rest of what Isabela says is censored as the camera moves to look at her. Her oven is billowing out smoke, which is impressive since there isn't anything inside of it. “I'm cursed,” Isabela cries out. “Absolutely cursed.” 

Varric rushes up to Isabela’s side, placing a hand on the small of her back. The camera gives her space, but she's clearly upset and she keeps rubbing at her eyes. 

“It's okay, Isabela. Your oven is broken, so what? You can use one of the others,” Varric reassures her. He keeps rubbing her back, telling her that everything is fine. 

Isabela sniffs and flutters her eyelashes. “Oh dammit,” she mumbled. “My makeup is smudged.” 

Varric chuckles. “Don't worry, you look great. Now go out there and bake your heart out, all right?” 

The camera pans over to Hawke, who is in desperate need of a new hair tie. Without one to keep his hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, it keeps getting in his face and covering his eyes. He almost runs into the counter from the distraction, stopping at the last second and coming close to dropping the bowl in his arms.

He sighs. “Yeah, I feel like this is just a bad day.” 

At his station, Fenris sneezes. 

“Are you allergic to something?” Cassandra asks, entering the shot from the left. She holds out a tissue, which Fenris takes with a thankful nod. “You have been sneezing like a madman these last few weekends.” 

“I will be fine,” Fenris insists, before sneezing again. “I… may need more tissues.” 

“I think Isabela should move stations,” Anders complains. “The smoke is going to ruin my bake.” He glares at her, as if it were her personal choice to have her oven suddenly break. 

Isabela returns the look with just as much venom. “Excuse you, my oven breaking is not my fault! Can't you use your fancy magic fingers and blow all the smoke away?” 

“Magic is forbidden on the show,” Varric calls out rather desperately. “Come on, Isabela, let's focus on your bake.” 

The camera spins around and crosses the tent, taking in the four bakers as they dash around. It looks like everyone has, more or less, started to get their shit together but the stress on their faces has racked up. Even Fenris has started to sweat — he keeps having to pause and wipe at his forehead, headband or no. 

“Thirty minutes left,” Leliana calls out. 

“Arghhhhh,” Hawke shouts, pushing the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Why won't this rise?” He looks into his oven, squinting and frowning heavily. “I did everything right, so shouldn't it work?” 

“How do you know you did it right?” Isabela asks, suspicious. 

“I don't,” Hawke admits, “But false confidence is better than none.” 

Fenris pinches his nose and sighs. “If I go home this week, I better have burnt the tent down,” he mumbles. 

Anders, from the other side of the tent, also sighs. “I am surrounded by idiots.” His station looks like something exploded, possibly his vegan cocoa powder. 

Isabela looks like she has several choice comments, but she refrains only because she's trying to make sure her new oven doesn't also spontaneously explode. 

“Fifteen minutes!” Leliana shouts. 

“No, you lie,” Hawke cries out. Fenris chuckles. Hawke turns to look at him and almost immediately trips over his own two feet. “I'm okay!” He shouts from his position on the ground. “A-okay.” 

Josephine starts to stand. “Medics? Do we need a medic?” She asks. 

Hawke gives her a thumbs up. They do not, in fact, call the paramedics. 

#

“Ready for day two?” Hawke asks, a wide smile on his face as Fenris walks over. Fenris is, as always, caught off guard by that smile. It is always present whenever they talk, though most of their communication of late has been digital. Last night, Fenris was so tired after the technical that he barely got to his hotel and checked in before falling asleep. And then the nightmares… 

He probably looks like a mess, despite the makeup team's best efforts, which admittedly is how he usually feels. He's just been doing his best not to let it show. 

“How much sleep did you get?” Hawke questions, smile fading into more of a concerned frown.

“Very little,” Fenris admits. “I… occasionally have difficulty sleeping. I am sure it is nothing, just inconvenient.” He shrugs. 

Hawke doesn't look like he accepts that as an answer, but Fenris must convey how little he wants to talk about it because Hawke instead launches into a discussion about Trinket and how his sister needs to stop sending him such cute photos because it's a major distraction. 

There's something absolutely breathtaking, Fenris thinks, about how a large man with rough hands and broad shoulders can seem so sweet when he's talking about his mabari — a breed traditionally used as a war dog. But Hawke is a tangled mess of contradictions, Fenris has decided. He loves dragons and mabari and his flannels — even if they are absolutely are ridiculous — and baking. 

Some part of Fenris hopes that, one day, he can be added to that list of things Hawke loves. Then he remembers that they'll never interact in person again after the bake off ends. There's no point in getting attached — 

Except it's already far, far too late. Fenris doesn't want to admit it, but sometime during the nine weeks of competition he has thoroughly fallen for someone who once tweeted a picture of his mabari wearing human socks that looked like dragons. 

In Hawke's defense, it was an utterly adorable photo. 

“Hey, Fenris,” Hawke says, snapping Fenris out of his thoughts. 

“Hm?”

“How far do you live from Lothering anyway? You should… You should visit. If you want. Like, once the bake off is done.” Hawke has a shy smile on his face. He looks like he expects Fenris to turn him down. 

Fenris can't imagine why. It must be fairly obvious that he — his feelings for Hawke go beyond friendship. It's safe to say that much, at least. 

“I would like that. You could give me a good hotel recommendation, then? It is a bit further than a day trip. If, er, you are amicable to—” 

“I'd love for you to stay for a weekend,” Hawke blurts out. He flushes, a tinge of pink against his brown skin. “And there's a great family inn just five minutes from my flat. You'd like it there. They really know how to make some killer omelettes.” Hawke smiles that beautiful smile and the breath catches in Fenris's throat. “You'll be able to meet Trinket. I'm — You'll love him.” 

“That sounds wonderful,” Fenris replies. He hopes that he sounds genuine, though his rampaging anxiety makes him look away from Hawke's intense gaze. He can feel his face flush with embarrassment. He feels like a foolish teenager with a crush. 

Just because he barely has the experience of a teenager does not mean he has to act like one! 

Hawke takes in a sharp breath. “You're… uh… you're a really great baker! We'll have to bake together when you come visit. Yeah…” He looks almost disappointed with himself, but before Fenris can ask why, Isabela rounds the corner and walks under the tent. 

“All right boys, time to get your asses kicked by the queen of chocolate. Yesterday's technical sucked, but I'm here to stop the show!” 

The change hits Hawke so quick that Fenris almost misses it. Hawke grins a cocky grin and leans in Isabela’s direction. His shoulders are back, his eyes sharp. He's nothing like the nervous man who was just asking Fenris to come visit him. 

As Hawke and Isabela tease and taunt each other, Fenris settles back and tells himself it's nothing. He doesn't want to be reading into things that don't exist, after all. 

#

“You four have baked your hearts out,” Varric says. “I would love to keep all four of you for the finale, but unfortunately the producers told me that ruined the point of a competition.” 

“But regardless of what happens today, you all should be very proud of yourselves,” Cassandra continues. “The judges also wanted to tell you all that this was the hardest decision that they have ever made.” 

“In any other round, all four of you could easily be star baker,” Varric adds. “And speaking of star baker, I get to make that announcement. This baker has gone through trials and tribulations. Difficulties and yes, many lackluster technical challenges. But he managed to impress the judges with a solid signature challenge and a truly unique showstopper. Congratulations, Hawke.” 

A round of applause broke out. Hawke's eyes are wide as he keeps looking at the others. Varric's smile is genuine, what with his growing friendship with Hawke, and Fenris — he's proud. He has such a proud expression that it takes Hawke's breath away, even more than winning star baker. 

“Your chocolate cake was one of the most delicious things we've ever had on the show,” Josephine says. “If you ever go back to baking professionally, you are wasted on just bread.” 

Next to Hawke, Fenris leans over and nudges him with his shoulder. Hawke glances at him and Fenris nods in agreement with Josephine. A bright grin breaks out on Hawke's face. On Hawke's other side, Isabela is hiding half behind her hair and half behind one of her hands. 

Anders is openly frowning. 

As the cheering dies down, Cassandra steps forward. “I have the less pleasant job, again. Because one of you must go home.” 

The camera focuses on the three other bakers. Isabela is resting her chin against the palm of her hand, fingers half-hiding her mouth. Fenris is sitting up perfectly straight but he's clearly tense, his hands curled into fists that rest on his thighs. Anders is sweating, hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. 

As the shot swings around, Cassandra is the center of attention. Everyone is silent. “The baker who is going home today is…” 

#

 _@fereldenbakeoffstats tweeted:_ Including e9, Fenris has sneezed on camera a grand total of 8 times. #weirdstatsaturday

 _@yestruthsteller tweeted:_ Can someone please get @applestoapples some allergy meds or something poor guy is allergic to summer 

_@fenrisdefensesquad liked this_

_@hawkeguy replied:_ trust me I'm trying 

_@yestruthsteller, @thatoneguy, @belatheboozybaker, and @maninwhite liked this_

_@dagger_dagger_dagger tweeted:_ hi @hawkeguy how does it feel to go from bottom of the table to star baker twice in a row? 

_@hawkeguy replied:_ absolutely amazing. Also I love your handle.

 _@sunshinegirl replied:_ seriously, he won't shut up about it ;P 

_@thatoneguy tweeted:_ so is anyone else heartbroken about Isabela? @belatheboozybaker you're fabulous and we all know you're the true chocolate queen *heart emoji* *cake emoji* 

_@belatheboozybaker replied:_ sometimes lady luck just really screws you over, but don't worry, this won't be the last you'll see of me *kiss emoji*

#

 _Isabela:_ Hello, everyone! I bet you're wondering why I've gathered you here today… 

_Hawke:_ Isabela, it's a group chat named “Help Hawke Get Laid.” 

_Sebastian:_ I thought we agreed to speak to Hawke independently? 

_Bethany:_ Can we please rename the group? I’d rather not think about my brother having sex. 

_Isabela:_ We all know that Hawke is going to need all the help he can get.

 _Isabela:_ Sorry, Hawke. 

_Sebastian:_ Hm, well, in that case. Hawke you need to ask Fenris out. 

_Hawke:_ Wait, why is Bethany in this chat??? 

_Hawke:_ Isabela whyyyyyyyy????

 _Isabela:_ There, Bethany, is that better? 

_Bethany:_ “Help Fenris Get Laid” is not that much better, but I'll allow it. 

_Hawke:_ No, I don't like you guys anymore. 

_Isabela:_ Hawke, this is literally the last week. 

_Isabela:_ I'm not there to make you do anything but you need to do something. 

_Sebastian:_ We are only trying to look out for you and Fenris, my friend. 

_Hawke:_ Then why aren't you making a group chat with Fenris *angry emoji* 

_Isabela:_ Oh we have so many chats about you. 

_Sebastian:_ He thinks that you are not interested. Besides, he does not respond well to prodding. 

_Hawke:_ Wait what do you mean he talks about me? *heart eyes emoji* 

_Isabela:_ You two hopeless idiots. 

_Bethany:_ You have the emotional capacity of an eight year old, but you never smile more than when you talk about Fenris. Do us all a favor and ask him on a date. I'll even stay over at Mother's. 

_Hawke:_ … I'll think about it. 

_Isabela:_ *crying emoji* That was so beautiful, Bethany. This is why you're my favorite Hawke. 

_Hawke:_ Hey, wait a minute what *frown emoji* *angry emoji* 

_Sebastian:_ Hawke, how often do you text Fenris? 

_Hawke:_ Like every day why? *thoughtful emoji* 

_Sebastian:_ Merely wondering… 

#

Cassandra provides the introductory narration. “It started with twelve.” A shot of the first day, all the original bakers walking into the tent. “Now, we’re down to the final three.” Quickly, three different clips go by. Hawke carefully putting the last details on his chocolate cake. Fenris sweating over a pot as his sauce boils. Anders sitting in front of his oven, waiting for something to bake. 

A swooping shot of the green lawn that plays host to the show. There’s a herd of sheep to the south, a vast wood to the north, and in the middle of the perfectly trimmed lawn lies the distinct white tent. The shot cuts to the interior of the tent as Fenris puts his apron on. Behind him, Hawke is doing the same. 

The music is gentle but tense. Everyone in the tent know that this is it. This is make or break to prove to everyone who the best baker in Ferelden is. 

“Three bakers, three final challenges.” The camera focuses on Anders, who rests his hands against his station. “Anders struggled to stick to his morals and stay on the show.” Clips from earlier weeks begin to play, showcasing his difficulties and the strange ingredient substitutions he’s had to make. “But he managed to get through with some creative choices and beautiful bakes.” A shot of his showstopper from the week prior. 

Returning to the current episode, the camera circles around Hawke. “Though he found himself challenged to keep up with the intense pace and increasingly difficult technical challenges,” Cassandra narrates as the shot cuts to Hawke coming in last during multiple technicals, “Hawke carried himself through with fantastic flavors and signatures that the judges will never forget.” A clip from pastry week as Hawke wins star baker. 

Lastly, the camera returns to look at Fenris. He seems to have replaced his black headband with a maroon one. “Fenris has been consistently one of the best bakers through the competition, but he hasn’t won star baker yet.” A short montage of Fenris’s expressions as Sebastian, Hawke, and Anders all win star baker in their respective episodes. Fenris doesn’t look upset, especially when Hawke or Sebastian win, but he doesn’t look overjoyed either. “Still, his consistency has kept him steady even as the competition has gotten tougher.” 

“I woke up this morning and it hit me, all at once,” Hawke says in an interview. His flannel is rolled up to his sleeves, red and black on top of a black T-Shirt. “I’m in the final! I’m the worst baker in my family and I’m in the final.” He laughs semi-hysterically. 

In contrast, Anders seems almost deadly serious in his interview. His hair is pulled into a man bun instead of the small ponytail. “I knew I would make it this far, but now it’s time to show all the disbelievers how wrong they are. I will prove that veganism is superior!” 

The show cuts to the judges and hosts all standing at the front of the tent. The camera circles behind them, each of the contestants fully visible where they stand. Fenris is practically a statue with how still he is. Behind him, Hawke shifts back and forth nervously. 

Varric steps forward. “Bakers, huge congratulations. You started with nine of your peers and now you’re the last three standing.” 

“Each of you have completed twenty-seven challenges to get here,” Cassandra adds. “And now, there’s only three more between you and being declared the greatest baker in Ferelden.” 

A sudden close up of Anders. “Three more,” he mutters. 

Back to the entire tent. “Now, today we’re hoping to crown the best baker so we thought that we should prepare for the coronation,” Varric teases. “To start off — what’s a king without his crown? And you three will be making them.” 

Fenris finally moves, a slight frown appearing on his otherwise expressionless face. 

“We’d like you to make filled meringue crowns — and not small ones either,” Cassandra says. “These will have at least three layers of meringue and be big enough to fit on Varric’s oversized ego.” 

A slight smattering of laughter spreads through the tent, helping break the tension ever-so slightly. Varric, of course, laughs the most. 

“You have two hours,” he says once he’s done chuckling. “On your mark… Get set… Bake!”

Hawke goes to get his mixer ready, setting it up and choosing the right whisk attachment while Anders sorts his ingredients out. They both jump in the air as a glass bowl slips from Fenris’s hands and lands, thankfully, unbroken on his station. 

Fenris flushes and ducks his head, intending for his bangs to cover his face but foiled by the headband. “My apologies, it appears that the nerves are more serious than I thought.” 

The camera continues to follow him even as audio from an interview begins to play. “I did come in with the intention to make it to the final, but actually baking in it has made me far more nervous than I have any right to be. There’s nothing they can ask us to bake that I haven’t baked already.”

“We’re asking them to make meringue because it is difficult and it is something all three of them have tried in the past but failed to do very well at,” Josephine explains. She sits in front of a grapefruit tree, the smattering of orange and yellow contrasting her blue sundress quite nicely. “Now, the real interesting part will be how they make it a crown. We didn't give them any instruction, so it will be a great surprise.” 

Leliana sits in a pants suit in front of the tent, a small smile on her face. “Of course we're going to expect nothing less than perfection. These three have continually beaten our expectations. If they don't outshine themselves today, then it was a mistake letting them get this far.” 

Back in the tent, Fenris begins to mix his meringue. He stares at the mixer for a moment before slowly adding a golden liquid from a measuring cup. 

“I am making four layers of meringue. The fourth and second layer are red apple flavored with a hint of strawberry. The third and first are mint and black licorice.” He smiles wryly into the camera. “The judges have not gotten sick of my apple inclusions, so I doubt now will change anything.” 

The shot follows Fenris as Varric takes over narration. “In addition to his four layers, Fenris is modeling his crown after the traditional pointed ones of Tevinter archons. On top of his base will be four upright sticks of meringue converging in the center.” 

In the tent, the camera swoops around Fenris before cutting to Hawke. He sticks his finger in his bowl of egg whites and holds it up, looking at the bit on his finger with a critical eye. After a moment, he decides he's satisfied and resumes mixing, adding more ingredients now that the whites are ready. 

“I'm sticking with three layers because I want it to have edges on the top,” Hawke explains. “So I actually have family back in Kirkwall and I thought I'd be unique and make mine similar to what the Viscount used to wear. When I was a kid, my mom took me and my siblings to Kirkwall and we saw all these old relics and stuff. And the crown was this real simple thing, but sharp. Like a knife.” Hawke grins at the camera. 

“Hawke is hoping his sharp combination of raspberry meringue and lemon-lime meringue leaves a lasting impression on the judges,” Cassandra adds in a voice over. 

Before moving on, the camera switches focus and turns to look at where the judges and hosts are sitting. They all have untouched cups of tea in front of them, the white and pink porcelain far too nice to actually be used. 

“Finals! Ah, my favorite time. Everything is delicious, the energy is better than any other episode, and someone is going home with the best prize of all: a hug from Cassandra Pentaghast.” Varric grins at his co-host. 

Cassandra, surprisingly, chuckles. “Well, Leliana, Josephine — what do you think we will see today?” 

“I am looking at Hawke to surprise us,” Josephine immediately replies. “Every time we think he had shown us everything, he pulls out another wild card. I don't think any of us saw his molten chocolate volcano coming!” 

“Agreed. And I want Fenris to step it up, to work outside of the box. He is a good baker, maybe one of the best we have ever had on the show, but he hasn't done anything that really challenges himself yet.” Leliana shrugs. “I want to see him really push himself on this last stretch.” 

“And what about Anders?” Cassandra asks. Josephine and Leliana exchange a look.

“I think Anders will be a wild card. He is, perhaps, the first baker to get to the final largely because another made such a huge blunder last week,” Josephine admits. “That is not to say he is not a good baker, but he really struggled last week. I want to see that it hasn't affected his attitude in the present.” 

The camera picks up the nonverbal cue and shifts back to the bakers, this time focusing on Anders. 

Anders, in quite possibly the most unsurprising manner, has thrown himself into the challenge with a scowl and plenty of muttering about animal rights and discrimination. He isn't refusing to participate, but he does seem to have about half the ingredients on his station as the other two have. 

“It is difficult to make a cruelty-free meringue, but I have not come this far to give up.” He sneers into the camera as he squeezes a few drops of vanilla extract into his mixing bowl. “I am why vegans should be feared. No compromise, ever.” 

He goes on to describe his bake, which will take the form of a traditional crown and have three layers. He is sticking to just one flavor, but hoping to add a red pomegranate sauce on top to symbolize the blood at the hands of the monarchy. The blood, of course, is that of the innocents shed to keep kings and queens in power, especially including the countless animals killed each day. Anders describes all of this as he bakes.

The camera turns and looks at the front of the tent, focusing on Varric who stands with his arms crossed. “One hour remaining, bakers. One hour until we get a step closer to crowning our king!” He chuckles to himself, as if he has made a particularly clever pun. 

“This is the difficult part,” Fenris mumbles to himself. He has a tube of meringue mix in a pipe and is currently attempting to make his disks. “Each has to be the same size, which I’ve drawn out on the wax paper, but they need to bake the same as well and I only have so much oven space.” 

“Hopefully they checked the ovens over after last week,” Hawke calls over. He’s grinning, but there’s tension in his eyes. His station looks a right mess, all sorts of half-used ingredients and dirty containers strewn everywhere. No one else is exactly picture perfect, but Hawke seems to have given himself the extra challenge of being a distinguished disaster. 

“Don't worry, we checked everything twice, just for you!” Varric tells Hawke. 

Hawke laughs. “Aw, you sure know how to make a man feel special.” 

“It’s what I do, Hawke. It's what I do.” 

#

“That was the last time I ever make meringue,” Hawke swears as he sits down and grabs a bottle of water. Fenris sits next to him and is instantly annoyed as Anders goes to the other side of Hawke. “I hate that stuff. Pretty sure my sister is sick of having to eat my failures too.” 

“Handsome man like you must have plenty of friends,” Anders says. “No one else wants to eat what you make?” He leans towards Hawke, who shifts away. 

“I mean — I just live with my sister. So she gets all my test bakes.” Hawke tenses as Anders puts a hand on his back. “Do you need something?” He asks. 

Anders feigns surprise and backs off. “Oh, sorry, I'm just naturally touchy. And we're friends, aren't we?” 

“You haven't talked to me for the entire competition,” Hawke points out. 

“Details.” Anders waves a hand in the air. “Besides, you were talking to those… other people.” 

Fenris coughs. Anders glances at him for the first time. There is a moment when Fenris thinks Anders doesn't really look at him even though his eyes are on Fenris. It feels more like he's being examined by a scientist, all these calculations and suspicions stirring behind Anders's cold gaze. 

Not one to back down, not to someone like Anders, Fenris stares right back. 

Hawke stands. “I want some of your meringue, Fenris. Come help me pick a piece?” He barely waits for Fenris's nod before walking off. 

When the two of them are out of Anders's earshot, Hawke sighs. “I have no idea why he's acting like that. He's so creepy. Did you know he asked Aveline if she has ever filmed herself having sex?” 

A shudder ran up Fenris's spine. “I wish Isabela was here,” he mutters. For a moment, he considers how much trouble he would get into if he punched Anders in his nose. He shakes it out of his head. “Did you actually want meringue…” 

“Oh, I was dead serious about the meringue. Yours did come out a little, uh, pink though.” Hawke lets out a nervous laugh. “I'm sure they're still delicious.”

“Thank you. I would have some of yours however…” Fenris motioned towards the empty platter that once held Hawke's meringue crown. There are a few crumbs left, which seems to be all that people have eaten from Anders's. Besides the judges and hosts, no one is very eager to give Anders a reason to talk to them. 

Hawke laughs again. “Maybe when you come visit, I'll make you some.” 

“What happened to no more meringue?” Fenris asks, cutting Hawke a slice of his crown. The top point has fallen, but he is still able to give Hawke a sizeable piece. 

“For you, I'm willing to make an exception.” Hawke's grin makes Fenris's heard skip a beat. Fenris has to stop cutting to avoid slicing his own finger off. He swallows and quickly finishes, handing Hawke the plate and not quite looking at him. “I, uh… I actually wanted to ask you something.” 

“Hm?” Fenris does glance up. 

Hawke's smile has faded, replaced by him biting his bottom lip. His makeup has started to smudge, his sweat and the uncharacteristic heat messing it up. This close, Fenris can see that his front tooth is slightly chipped. Hawke has rough skin, the beginnings of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. But he's still startlingly handsome, Fenris thinks, what with his disarming smile and the warmth in his eyes. 

“I… would you at all—” 

“Bakers! If you could please make your way to makeup for touch-ups, we're almost ready for the technical to begin,” Cassandra shouts.

Hawke jumps in the air like something has bitten him. He mumbles something about talking to Fenris later and scampers off. It's hard to comprehend such a large man being capable of scampering, but Hawke finds a way.

Fenris tenses as Anders comes up being him. 

“What do you want?” Fenris asks. 

Anders glowers. “What does he see in you? You aren't even that good of a baker.” 

“I am better than you,” Fenris replies. Anders snorts and rolls his eyes. “If you are done—” Fenris starts to walk away, stopping when he feels fingers grip the back of his shirt. He spins around and raises a fist. Anders has stepped back, his own hands up in a gesture of surrender. “You do not have permission to touch me.” 

“What are you going to do, punch me?” 

“Don't test me.” 

Before either of them can say anything else, Varric walks over. “Is everything all right, gentlemen?”

Fenris nods, glares at Anders, and then walks away. 

#

“I don't know why I'm surprised,” Hawke complains, as is normal for him during technicals. “I haven't had a good technical in weeks. This wasn't going to be anything different.”

“What, you have never made a mille-feuille?” Fenris teases. 

“No, I really haven't. Had you?” Hawke asks. 

“Oh, never. I have no idea what this is.” Fenris holds up his rough puff pastry, the solid hunk of dough and butter not yet fully folded. “This is the worst culinary invention the Orlesians have ever made.” 

Varric, at the front of the tent, laughs and claps his hands together. “Well, bakers, you can't give up yet. You have an hour and a half left until this is all over!” 

Anders is alternating between glaring at his dough and glaring at Fenris, who is struggling but not quite as much as Anders seems to be. It's no surprise — the recipe is almost ninety percent dairy and Anders has to compensate for all of them. Under his breath, he mutters a curse.

“So, many of the individual parts of the bake I am familiar with. It's just combining them that is new.” He sighs. “Would I have appreciated a vegan recipe today? Yes. But I will manage. There is _nothing_ I won't do.” 

The shot suddenly changes to Leliana and Josephine sitting at a table, away from the usual white tent. A mille-feuille sits at the center of the table. It is a rectangular shape made of three layers of puff pastry and two layers of cream and raspberry sauce between. On the top of the mille-feuille is a piece of fondant with white and pink stripes. There is nothing vegan about it. 

“So, Leliana, why did you pick this dish?” Josephine asks. 

“Well, it's rather complicated in technique and execution. The smallest mistake in mixing, baking, or construction could be disastrous.” Leliana smiles. “We want the bakers to be challenged more than ever.” 

Josephine laughs and gestures to the dish. “I hope that it tastes even half as wonderful as it looks.” 

Leliana chuckles and cuts a piece for herself and for Josephine. There's a moment as Josephine thanks her and then takes a small bite off her fork. 

“Oh!” Her face lights up. “That is absolutely delightful. It just melts in your mouth. I have no idea how Anders is going to make this.” 

“It is Orlesian, and you know how the Orlesians enjoy their cream.” Leliana takes another bite of her slice. “Mhmm. I am a fabulous baker.” 

Back in the main tent, Cassandra stands at the front with her hands on her hips. She is wearing a suit, the jacket unbuttoned and a dark blue on top of her grey shirt. Her expression is similar to that of a child pretending to be too old for a holiday, hiding their excitement behind barely closed lips and bright eyes. 

“One hour left!” Cassandra announces. 

Varric, next to her, has no qualms about showing every possible emotion on his face. The camera captures his sharp gasp as a crash rings out in the tent. 

Fenris starts to swear, looking at the pot that was full of his sauce. It has tipped over on his station, spilling everywhere. He grabs a towel and quickly rights the pot, turning the burner off with his other hand.

“I am fine,” he calls out. 

“How's your sauce?” Anders asks. 

Fenris sneezes, swinging the pit as he covers his mouth with his shoulder. He almost whacks Varric in the head, but Varric is a few inches short. Varric has the expression of someone who almost met his Maker. 

“Whoa, you don't have to start swinging, you're still good on time,” Varric cries out. “What happened, Fenris? Do you need to sit down?” 

Fenris shakes his head as he sets the pot down with a little more force than strictly necessary. There Is raspberry sauce on his knuckles and he winces as he rubs it off with a towel. His station is partially covered in still-hot purple sauce that's started to stain everything, but thankfully the materials he's using for the bake itself are untouched. There's also still a good amount of sauce left in the pot, but Fenris seems more shaken than before when he almost dropped the bowl. 

“Fenris,” Varric repeats, voice softening, “A short break doesn't hurt anyone.” 

“No, I am fine,” Fenris insists. He gives Varric an apologetic smile. “I am sorry I almost hit you. It would be a shame if you could not be here tomorrow. I am certain your chest hair brings the show ratings up at least ten percent.” 

Varric puts a hand on his chest and pretends to swoon. “Oh, you flatter me. I'm sure your charm and way with words has drawn many a fan.” 

“Time?” Anders asks. 

“Fifty minutes,” Cassandra tells him. 

A stubborn look appears on Fenris's face. “I would move if I were you,” he informs Varric, “I have some baking to do.” 

#

 _Fenris:_ Do you think someone can cheat?

 _Sebastian:_ What do you mean? During the bake off?

 _Fenris:_ Today, during the technical… I felt something. 

_Fenris:_ I am not insane. I know what it feels like to have magic used on you. I know that my hands were steady.

 _Fenris:_ But I dropped a pot and I know what it sounds like, I know I must seem insane but you have to trust me. I would not say this if I did not mean it. 

_Fenris:_ Sebastian? 

_Sebastian:_ I believe you. I also think something happened to my bakes, but I was eliminated. Anything I said would come under question as bitter… and I lack proof. 

_Sebastian:_ I agree with you, Fenris. I wasn't certain until you brought it up. 

_Fenris:_ I cannot believe he would try this! I understand it is an important competition, but to go to such lengths… 

_Fenris:_ If I had not been on camera, I would have confronted him then and there. 

_Fenris:_ Unfortunately, I cannot think of a way to prove it. If the others have not noticed yet… and if it is only our word against his… 

_Sebastian:_ It will seem like a vengeful opponent and his friend. 

_Fenris:_ Precisely. 

_Fenris:_ I will know to be prepared if he tries anything tomorrow.

 _Fenris:_ Anders will not get away with this. 

_Sebastian:_ Good. 

#

 _@thefakerealvarrictethras tweeted:_ Filming the finale tomorrow! Excited to eat the showstopper the fantastic bakers are sure to come out with. 

_@belatheboozybaker tweeted:_ Sending support to my favorite baker @applestoapples tomorrow! Sorry @hawkeguy, Fenris has my heart. 

_@yestruthsteller tweeted:_ hey who are @maininwhite @daisychain cheering for? Apparently they film the final tomorrow.

 _@maninwhite replied:_ It will be close tomorrow between my two friends, but whoever wins I will be happy for him.

 _@daisychain replied:_ Oh, I don't like to pick sides. But Hawke is a very good baker! Not that Fenris isn't. They're both very good. 

_@hawkeguy tweeted:_ Not to get mushy on main, but competing on #gfbo has been life changing. I never thought much of myself as a baker, I actually entered as part of a dare with my sister. But it has turned into more than I could 1/? 

_@hawkeguy tweeted:_ ever have thought of. I've met some amazing people and the amount of support has been nuts. I think my father would be proud of me for continuing on with the family legacy of burning myself and swearing at yeast. 2/?

 _@hawkeguy tweeted:_ Do I think I will win tomorrow? Idk, Fenris is an amazing baker who has pretty much smashed any expectations thrown at him. But do I think I have a chance? Yes. So cross your fingers, folks. Tomorrow's the big day. 3/3 

#

“Hello, bakers.” Varric stands in front of the tent, arms crossed. “You have managed to make meringue and placed your chances in the hands of higher powers with puff pastry. But now you face the last challenge you will ever do under this tent. Welcome to the final showstopper challenge.”

“The judges would like this cornanation to be grand, and they plan on inviting many guests. And you three will be providing the refreshments,” Cassandra explains. “We would like you to make one chocolate cake, twelve stuffed puff pastry rolls, twelve mini quiches, twelve savory scones, and twelve fruit and custard tarts.”

Varric grins. “You have twenty minutes, on your mark, get set—”

The tent fills with nervous laughter from the contestants and genuine chuckles from the judges and Cassandra. Varric, like all good comedians, barely laughs at his own joke, but his smile stretches from ear to ear. 

“No, no, you have five hours,” he says. “On your mark… Get set…”

Together, for the last time that season, he and Cassandra say: “Bake!”

“Good luck!” Hawke shouts as he lunges for his mixer. He rips open a bag of flour and starts dumping it into a large measuring cup while also pulling a series of papers towards himself. The camera struggles to find a good angle over his shoulder, no doubt in part to his height advantage over most, and settles for looking at him from the side. It can barely make out the words on the paper which read “ACTION PLAN” in big, blocky letters. 

Hawke mumbles encouragement to himself as he begins to follow aforementioned plan, starting with the parts he feels will take the longest to bake or to cool. There are so many ingredients necessary, he’s actually taken up the station behind him as well as his own. A quick look around by another camera making its way through the tent shows that Hawke isn’t the only one with this strategy. Fenris has taken the station in front of him while Anders is using both stations nearest him, his ingredients and various bowls spread out in a slightly terrifying mass.

“I need so many different ingredients because I’m making very complicated dishes,” Anders explains as the camera gets closer to him. “I am worried about coming last in the technical, but I feel like I did very strongly in the signature so I’m not too concerned.” 

He certainly looks like he’s brought half a grocery store with him, and he has a literal binder of instructions that he occasionally runs to and flips through, double-checking his recipes. Anders already has his mixing bowl working on some dough and he has a sauce ready to simmer down on the stove. 

Fenris is, for the first time, about as ragged as the rest of the competition. There is no calm veneer, but rather a slightly stressed expression that has an unfortunate resemblance to naeusa as he starts on his bakes. He has his mixing bowl working on a chocolate dough as he works on his pastry dough. 

“So, I did some thinking last night,” he tells the camera in a low voice. “I have come to the conclusion that, yes, I want to win. And I have a good chance of doing so. My meringue was one of the better ones—” A glance at Anders. “—And my mille-feuille was not a disaster.” Fenris pronounces mille-feuille the best out of anyone else in the tent except for Leliana. He shrugs. “If I do not horribly mess something up today, I will be confident in my chances.” 

The camera moves back, taking in the entirety of the tent, before swinging around to look at the judges and hosts. The four of them sit at a table watching the competition, a porcelain tea set providing refreshments. 

“So, judges, how are we feeling?” Varric asks. 

“It’s always strange during the finale,” Josephine says. “I keep thinking about next week but there won’t be one. This is the last chance for these three to prove they deserve the title of Ferelden’s greatest amatuer baker.” 

“There’s a bit of irony too, because Fenris technically isn’t a Ferelden native. Of course, he’s been here for a very long time but between him and Anders, it’s quite the unusual cast this year,” Varric points out. 

“Who do you think is doing well so far?” Cassandra prompts, dragging the conversation back on topic as per usual. 

“Anders has to make up for his technical,” Leliana points out. “It was — was almost inedible. And this late in the competition, that is a serious error.” 

“But he isn't out yet. He has come back from disadvantages before. And this challenge is so much more open to interpretation, he could easily have a fantastic showstopper.” Josephine taps the table. “I feel like Hawke and Fenris are about even.” 

“I disagree,” Leliana interrupts. “I think that Fenris is ahead. His technical was much stronger. In any other week, Hawke would have come in last. And while Hawke may edge out in the signature — which historically has been his strongest challenge — Fenris time and time again has been fantastic in the showstopper.” 

“Does Hawke have any momentum, coming in off of two star baker weeks back to back?” Varric asks. 

Josephine shakes her head. “I don't think so. There's enough time between each week that momentum rarely carries, and even if it did, this week is so much different.” 

“I agree with that.” Leliana smiles. “But all three of these are still in contention. A good bake is to be expected. A _great_ bake, however, will win.” 

“I think you mean 49 great bakes,” Varric points out. “This is the biggest final bake we've ever had. Do you think it's stressing out the bakers?” 

The camera returns to the bakers. Each has made significant progress. Hawke is working on his stuffed puff pastry, specifically the pork stuffing. Fenris is slicing green apples while three sauces reduce on his stovetop. Anders is cutting something out of dough while continually glancing at his mixer, which is whirring wildly. 

Back to the judges and hosts. Varric grins. 

“They look fine!” He proclaims. 

Leliana laughs and extends a hand to Josephine. “So, shall we talk to the bakers?” 

“I think we shall,” Josephine replies as she takes Leliana's hand.

The two first approach Anders, greeting him and asking what he is making for them today. 

“I am making a chocolate, orange, and hint of vanilla cake. My rolls are mushroom and vegan cheese alongside my famous cranberry scones, tofu and asparagus quiches, and strawberry rhubarb tarts.” He brushes some hair out of his face. His ponytail has quickly devolved into a mess, more hair loose than held back. “Of course, all of these are cruelty free but I like to specify the use of vegan products.” 

A picture of a young Anders, sitting in a garden playing with other children, takes over the shot entirely. Cassandra begins to provide a voice over as other photos appear, all of Anders as a child. 

“Anders began baking quite young. He was six when he baked his first batch of cookies, though he did not become vegan until he was much older. Later, when at a Chantry boarding school, Anders won over classmates and teachers alike with his cookies, cakes, and everything baked.” 

The shot cuts to Anders and another man sitting on a drab couch. The man has grey hair and an impressive beard and is wearing a T-shirt that says vegans rule on the front. A simple caption informs the viewers that his name is Karl and he is Anders's boyfriend. 

“Anders had been vegan for as long as I know him. It's such an integral part to who he is — almost as much as his magic,” Karl says. Several more photos drift across the shot of Anders, always baking, with the rest of the shot taken up by a black background. “He is such a talented man and I am very proud of him. I never doubted for a moment that he would make the final three.” 

Back to the couch. Anders pokes Karl in the stomach.

“You flatterer. But you're right of course. I was destined to make it to the finale.” 

The shot returns to the tent, where Anders is still listening to the judges. Josephine lightly grills him about his time management and how the tofu will affect his quiches before they all move on to Fenris. 

“Hello,” Leliana says as they approach his station. Fenris glances up at them and smiles. 

“Hello, everyone. I am making a caramel chocolate glaze cake, pigs in a blanket rolls, apple, bacon and cheese quiches, lavender and honey scones, and lemon-lime custard tarts.” Fenris lets out a heavy breath. 

“I don't think I've heard you say something that long before,” Varric quips. 

“Well you never ask,” Fenris replies. 

Without pause, the shot cuts to Fenris walking into a small flat. Cassandra begins a voice over as he takes his shoes off, leaving them at the entryway. 

“Fenris moved to Ferelden five years ago to pursue a degree in history, but was forced to put his plans on hold when his mother fell ill.” 

The camera follows Fenris as he walks into the shoebox he calls home. Everything is clean, nothing out of place, and there are no pictures or decoration anywhere. There is a small stuffed mouse on the ground — a blur of fur launches itself at Fenris. 

He smiles and bends to pick up an ugly, horribly scarred cat. It has patchy grey-brown fur and is blind in one eye on top of missing part of its left ear, but Fenris holds it gently and carries it into the kitchen. 

“I've known him for years,” a man with bronze skin and close cropped hair says. He sits outside on a porch and the caption says that his name is Krem and he is Fenris's neighbor. “Fenris is a stubborn guy. If you tell him he can't do something, he's going to do it just to prove otherwise.” 

A tall Qunari sits on a rocking chair on the same porch as Krem. An eyepatch covers one eye and he has Fenris's cat on his shoulder. The cat is small as it is, but seems almost dwarfed compared to the Qunari. 

“Every time he comes over, he brings an apple pie. I was the one who told him to enter the competition. Told him that he had real talent and skill.” The Iron Bull — as the caption titles him — says. “I've never seen anyone bake like he does, and I worked at a bakery for ten years.” 

Krem's voice returns as a voice over. “Do I think he's going to win?” 

The shot has returned to Fenris in his flat. He's working on a pie, though his cat continually attempts to get in the way. 

“Yes.” Krem, on screen, nods slowly to himself. “I think Fenris has a very good chance.”

In the tent, Fenris smiles at the judges. “I am excited for you to taste my bakes.” 

“And I can assure you that I eagerly await the final results,” Josephine replies. 

The camera jumps to Hawke, who is working on his custard while something bakes. His eyebrows are drawn low and his mouth is set in a thin line. A timer goes off and he swears, dropping his spoon and lunging for the oven. 

He is still mumbling to himself as he pulls out a tray of puff pastry rolls. The judges and hosts walk over and Hawke straightens up, one hand holding the tray and the other fiddling with the oven. 

“No explosions so far,” he jokes.

“Don't worry, there's still four more hours,” Varric replies. 

“What are you making for us today?” Leliana asks, ignoring the banter completely. 

“Right! One moment.” Hawke dashes for the freezer and stuffs his tray inside before hurrying back. “Sorry. I am making a chocolate marble cake, spicy pepper and cream cheese pastry rolls, ham and egg quiches, rosemary and thyme scones, and lemon custard tarts.” 

“Sounds delicious,” Josephine says. “How are you on time so far?” 

Hawke laughs, scratching his head with one hand as he holds up his ACTION PLAN. “Well, I'm on page three of ten, and I have about four hours left, so I'm doing okay.” 

“Action plan?” Leliana reaches for it and, with Hawke's permission, flips through it. “You are very organized. Hopefully this will help you stay on track.” 

“That's the goal!” Hawke laughs again. “My sister mocked me for a while about it — I was never a big fan of schedules or planning when we were younger.”

The shot is taken over by a picture of the Hawke family when he was younger. He is missing one of his front teeth and is holding up a small mabari in his arms. He can't be any older than five or six. 

Varric is the voice for the narration this time, instead of Cassandra. “As a kid, James Hawke was taught baking by his father, who ran the family business, while his mother helped raise him and his siblings.” 

In the shot, Hawke walks into his flat and greets his mabari, Trinket, as the massive dog trots over. He shouts a hello as he makes his way down the hall, 

“My brother was a goofy kid. I remember Father trying to teach me and Carver how to make muffins, but James just kept making funny faces and distracting us.” Bethany laughs, one arm over the back of the couch. She sits next to Hawke, who is blushing but smiling ear-to-ear. “You never wanted to learn how to bake, but you still always wanted to show off.” 

“Of my three children, James was always the most troublesome,” Leandra tells the camera. She's at the Hawke Family Bakery, sitting on a chair in the front.

It's a small store, mostly taken up with a kitchen and office in the back, but clean and very warm. Even though it isn’t new by any metric, the well-worn counters and slightly frosted display cases are still on the right side of “family owned” rather than “dated.” 

“I am very pleased with how he has done. He is a slow starter, but he's finally making us proud.” Leandra smiles. Her smile is a little stiff. “I know his father would share my feelings.” 

#

“Two more hours, bakers! Two hours until Leliana and Josephine crown our next king,” Varric shouts. 

“The biggest advantage I have,” Anders says as he sets a timer, “Is that I require less time to complete my bakes. No one is concerned about raw tofu or undercooked asparagus.” He glances over at Fenris and Hawke, both of whom are making good progress but are still several degrees more panicked than Anders. A smirk appears on Anders's face and he makes sure the camera sees it. A sharp gleam in his eyes appears as he does turn away to get his next bake ready. 

On the other side of the tent, Fenris is counting his scones. They're set out on a cooling rack while his full spread — which he is setting on a gold three-tiered rack with the cake on its own plate — sits at the station in front of him. He is halfway done but his cake is taking longer than he thought it would. 

“The problem is that it can't be soggy but I am fearful that it will be burnt,” he explains to the camera. “When I tested at home, it only took 45 minutes. But it's been almost an hour…” 

Cassandra begins narrating. “Fenris has another problem. If his cake does not come out of the oven and cool in time, he may not have time to properly glaze it. In the finale, even the smallest mistake could mean the difference between winning and walking away with nothing.” 

Hawke stands at his station, a juicer in front of him and a lemon in his hands. Varric appears next to him, seemingly popping out of nowhere. To his credit, Hawke doesn't even blink. 

“Hawke, I see that you are currently squeezing your lemons for the juice,” Varric says. 

“Mhmm.” 

“So, I have to ask you one thing.”

“Okay?” Hawke glances at Varric, hands reaching for a second lemon to juice. 

“Did life hand you these lemons and are you going to make me a glass of lemonade?” Varric asks. 

Despite the tension in the tent, a laugh is drawn out of Hawke. He shakes his head even as his face breaks into a large grin. Nearby, Fenris ducks his head a little more in hopes of hiding the silly blush and smile that have spread over his face. 

“Varric, if I win I will invite you to the bakery and personally give you an entire container of homemade Hawke lemonade.” Hawke wipes at his forehead and looks over at Fenris. The very tips of his ears are slightly red, but he seems determined to not look at Hawke. “You're invited too, Fenris, but you know that already.”

“What about me?” Anders whines from his station. He is setting dough on a tray, preparing what seems to be his scones. He is using two ovens and has yet to plate anything, though he still doesn't he frantic. 

Hawke doesn't answer. 

Varric begins a voice over as the camera changes to one outside the tent. “Of course, the delicious creations the bakers are making can't be enjoyed fully by just the judges. So we had to invite a few friends to help us out.” 

The camera swoops over the tent and towards the grassy lawn that surrounds it. Over the ridge that led to the tent, several groups of people armed with blankets, lawn chairs, and a few umbrellas walked down. 

As the shot zooms in, faces can be made out. Cullen is there, chatting with Alistair. Merrill, Isabela, and Sebastian all sit together. Isabela makes a joke which prompts Sebastian to shake his head, though Merrill looks like confused than anything. 

A pan to the side and Leandra is there. Bethany has Trinket's leash and awkwardly sets up the blanket while trying to stop the mabari from running towards the tent. Behind them, Sera can be seen laughing with — or at — the woman who was eliminated on the first episode, Wynne. 

“Who do I think is gonna win?” Sera raises an eyebrow at the camera. “Well obviously inn't gonna be the stuffy one or the big one.”

“Personally, I think all of them are equally likely to win!” Merrill says. She is sitting on a large blanket with Isabela on one side and Sebastian on the other. 

Isabela sticks her head more into the shot, an arm casually around Merrill's shoulders. “Oh, kitten, you're so sweet and nice. We all know that Fenris is going to kill it.” 

Sebastian just shakes his head, a smile on his face. 

#

“Fasta vass!” Fenris's shout draws every eye in the tent. He finishes pulling out what looks like a black clump, a huge cloud of smoke rolling out of the oven. There’s a moment of silence as Fenris stares at the remnants of the bake in disbelief. Nobody says anything as he throws the ruined bake onto the ground next to him, burying his face in his hands. Fenris's legs crumple underneath him and he sinks to his knees. His shoulders shake as he begins to break down and cry.

The camera swings around as Hawke makes his way over, beating even Varric to the punch. Hawke carefully comes and sits across from Fenris, not touching him but clearly concerned. 

“What happened?” Hawke asks softly. Fenris doesn't reply. “Fenris, you're almost done. You've done so well. You—”

“It does not matter,” Fenris snaps, tilting his head to glare at Hawke. “My cake is ruined. There is an hour left. I cannot make it again — I do not even have any batter.” He shakes his head. “I am doomed.”

“You still have an hour left, you can make a basic chocolate cake. You're the best baker in this tent.” Hawke slowly reaches out and squeezes Fenris's hand. Fenris jolts as their hands touch, but he doesn't move away. 

The camera seems to hesitate, to think about moving away as it intrudes on such an intimate moment, but it stays. 

“I do not know how this happened,” Fenris murmurs. “The oven must have been hotter than I thought…” He glances at the oven in question. It still reads 350 for the temperature. Hawke stands and helps pull Fenris to his feet. “I just… I apologize,” Fenris says. He rubs at his eyes. There are tears, unfallen, that still linger though he does his best to try to hide them.

“You don't have to apologize for anything,” Hawke promises. He hesitates before letting Fenris's hand go. “Can I check out your oven?” 

Fenris nods and Hawke goes to look at the appliance in question. He opens the front up and steps back in surprise before shutting it quickly. 

“That is not at 350 degrees. That's at least 400 — maybe 500.” Hawke shuts the oven off completely and glances at Fenris, whose lips are now set in a thin line. 

“What happened?” Anders asks, coming over to the two. 

“Nothing that concerns you,” Fenris says sharply. He then looks at Hawke. His eyes soften, a barely visible smoothing of his brow and a shift in how the green catches the light. “Thank you, but you need to concentrate on your bakes. I will have to make due.” 

Anders tries to share a look with Hawke, but Hawke casually avoids Anders's eyes. Instead Hawke's gaze lingers on Fenris before he nods and heads back to his station. Anders glances at one of Fenris's pots that holds some liquid that's simmering on a low heat. His fingers twitch and the oven flares up. 

“Bakers, you have 45 minutes left until the end!” Varric shouts. 

“Do you have to be so dramatic?” Cassandra asks. 

“It’s the finale, of course I do.” 

“Ugh.” 

#

“Five…” Fenris hurriedly throws a simple drizzle onto his scones. “Four…” Hawke places the last of his quiches on a round platter. “Three…” Anders mumbles under his breath as he sprinkles some garnish onto his puff pastry rolls. “Two… One! Please step away from your bakes,” Cassandra announces. 

Fenris steps back, leaning against the station and letting his head droop. Hawke looks at him concerned, but doesn't say anything. Anders glances about at the other spreads. Fenris's is an uncharacteristic mess thanks to his panic over his cake, but everything is there. Hawke looks nervous but at least his is pleasant to look at. 

Anders adopts a confident smirk. 

The judges go to Fenris first — the showstopper is usually carried to the judges, but this one is so massive that it can't be easily moved — and immediately Leliana asks about the cake. 

“I am uncertain of what precisely happened, but my oven… malfunctioned. It was hotter than I had set it for and the first cake burned. I lacked the time to replace it properly, my apologies.” Fenris ducks his head, though the red headband stops his bangs from covering his face. 

“Well, you still have a cake here, so good on you for not giving up,” Josephine reassures him. “Now, let's eat.” 

The judges slowly go through eat bake, commenting on a number of strange errors. The sauce on one bake is top bitter, the cake is rather plain, and his pastries have a soggy bottom. But the flavors are excellent, as per usual, and Fenris finds himself holding on to the fact that his other challenges were much better. 

Anders is next to be judged. He also has a few soggy bottoms and the texture and moisture of the tofu has left his quiches almost inedible. But his cake is top-tier and Anders is grinning ear to ear when the cameras move on to Hawke's spread. 

Hawke looks like the messiest baker in the tent, but one wouldn't know that just by looking at his bakes. They're set out beautifully, a charming rustic cloth beneath them but with a level of elegance lended by the dishware. 

“Enjoy,” Hawke says with a smile. Leliana and Josephine do, with much gusto. 

They find his bakes simple but refined, surprisingly good all things considered, except for his scones. They're burnt all along the bottom, almost to the point of being inedible. Josephine makes a valiant attempt but Leliana doesn't even try, just picking an unburnt piece and eating that instead. 

“What happened here?” Leliana asks. 

“They were in my oven when I went to help Fenris.” Hawke doesn't look apologetic at all. 

The camera does shift to Fenris. For a moment he has a pained expression, ears drooping and eyes widening. But he returns to neutral soon after, well aware of the cameras around him. 

“Mhmm.” Leliana moves on. 

After the judges have eaten, Varric steps to the front and claps his hands together. “Well, bakers, you have certainly given us all plenty to think about. But we knew that you couldn't possibly eat everything alone — well maybe you could, Hawke — but we still invited a few friends.” He spreads his arms and the cameras follow him as he leads the bakers out of the tent. 

As Fenris, Hawke, and Anders walk onto the lawn, the gathered crowd erupts in cheers. Isabela stands and waves, trying to get Fenris's attention, but it's also hard to miss the eight foot tall Qunari surrounded by an assortment of unusual people. Hawke perks up when he hears a familiar bark and his eyes are torn away from Fenris and onto his mabari and Bethany, who has a huge grin on her face. Anders also seems delighted to see a collection of his vegan friends, Karl included, present. 

The three are given permission to spread out and socialize while the judges deliberate. The bakes are brought out by crew members and set on tables that are a distance away from one another, so that each baker has a hub of sorts. That doesn't stop Sebastian from talking to both Hawke and Fenris, or from Bethany walking over to Fenris and sticking her hand out for him to shake. 

“Hi! I'm Bethany Hawke, James's sister.” She looks him up and down. If she is surprised about anything — his red headband, his small stature, the way his eyes keep flicking back to where Hawke is standing — then she says nothing. “It’s a pleasure meeting you.” 

Fenris flushes and shakes her hand. “It is a pleasure meeting you as well. James has spoken about you many times.” 

Bethany laughs. “Everything he's said is either a complete lie or a massive exaggeration. But I admit, I had my own reasons to come over here—” 

“Bethany!” Hawke appears out of nowhere and practically throws himself at his sister, slinging an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “What are you doing here?” 

“I'm talking to Fenris, _brother._ And I was just about to ask if he had any of his pigs in a blanket left.” Bethany pushes Hawke off of her. She doesn't have time to say anything else as Trinket, leash in Hawke's hand, suddenly lunges forward. 

Trinket leaps up at Fenris, front paws on his stomach. Hawke is certain he's about to watch Fenris get knocked over and concussed by his mabari, but Fenris braces himself and doesn't even sway back. 

“Hello. You must be Trinket,” Fenris says with a small smile. 

“Hey, Fenris, introduce us to your other friends!” Krem shouts from his seat at the table. The Iron Bull elbows him and Stitches mutters something in Karen's ears. Krem blushes and nods. “Right, never mind! Take all the time you want.” 

Fenris looks torn and mumbles something about the remaining food, gesturing to the spread behind him. He absentmindedly scratches Trinket behind the ears, looking away for a moment to see what Isabela is dragging Sebastian to now. 

Bethany takes advantage of the moment by glaring at her brother and gesturing for him to leave. Hawke shakes his head, points to Bethany, and then squeaks at the glare she shoots him.

“Sorry,” Fenris says, looking back at the two of them. “If you wish to try anything, you are more than welcome.” 

“James has to go make sure our mother doesn't offend anyone, but I would love to talk to you a bit. Just about the bakes. They sound absolutely fantastic and I've been hoping I could try them,” Bethany gushes. “I'll save you some maybe. Go make sure Mother doesn't start three fights and a diplomatic incident?” She shoots her brother a wide-eyed expression. 

Hawke grumbles but nods. “Bye, Fenris.” He half-waves before deciding he'd rather not, so his hand instead is stuck in the air awkwardly as he walks off. 

Bethany sighs. Trinket barks, shakes his backside a bit, and then trots after Hawke. 

“I have a few bakes left. Let me find you a plate.” Fenris starts to head to his table, Bethany following close behind. 

“So, Fenris, where is your family?” 

“Tevinter,” Fenris lies. 

“Oh, they weren't able to fly out?”

“My mother hates airplanes.” 

“A shame. I was looking forward to meeting her. Do you have any siblings?” Bethany manages to ask in such a nice, innocent way that Fenris almost feels bad about deceiving her. 

He shakes his head. They've reached the table and the Chargers — Fenris's neighbors and previously his only friends — are all doing their best to not seem like they're watching. The Iron Bull is actually quite good at it, though it helps that he's missing an eye. People think that makes him half as observant. They're wrong. 

“James has said that you are in college, but not what you are studying?” Fenris pushes the conversation towards Bethany's life as easily as he gives her a plate of assorted baked goods. 

Bethany thanks him and takes a bite of his pig in a blanket. “Oh! This is so good, Fenris. You know, James used to be a disaster in the kitchen.” 

“Really?” 

“Mhmm. Could barely heat up water. But oh, I'm studying medicine. I haven't decided if I want to work with children or specialize in trauma related injuries. Like — like an ER doctor.” Bethany flushes. “Sorry, here I am talking about me when it's all about you today! And really, these are so good. If you ever open up a store, you better let us know. We'll be your best clients.” 

Fenris isn't even sure what to respond to. “We?” He asks. 

Bethany beams. Her teeth are bright white. “My brother and I, of course.” 

“I live very far from Lothering.” Fenris would know. He has considered the likelihood of either him or Hawke taking a trip to visit the other after the competition ended. As much as Fenris wants to think Hawke would still open his home, the truth was that Fenris doesn't have the money to take time off work like that. He is struggling as it was to get to the competition and get back with time to sleep before work. 

“Oh, well, that's what trains are for.” Bethany shrugs. Fenris supposes she had a point. 

“Bakers! Could you all please gather by the tent? We're ready to announce the winner,” Cassandra calls out. 

A murmur goes through the crowd. Fenris takes a shaky breath and smiles the best he could at Bethany.

“Good luck!” She says. 

“Should you not be cheering for your brother?” Fenris questions. Bethany shrugs. Fenris decides it is best to not push it. 

He is the second to the tent. Anders already standing there and looking smug. It is like he already had planned his victory speech, crying and all. Fenris hopes that Anders didn't win. He wouldn't mind losing to Hawke, but Anders would be insufferable. 

Fenris does his best not to look like he felt as Hawke joins them, completing the trio. 

The cameras turn towards them and the countdown begins. As soon as they start rolling, Varric starts to speak. 

“It's been a long, long ten weeks. Our three competitors have baked their hearts out and I think I speak for everyone here when I say that any of them could come out on top.” 

“But after a long deliberation, the judges have decided on who had that little extra push, that little extra something,” Cassandra adds. 

The camera swings to the judges. Leliana is holding the trophy, a cake stand made of glass with “Best Bake” and the show logo etched on the surface. 

“The winner of this season of the Great Ferelden Bake Off is…” 

A moment passes. Fenris feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest. His palms are sweaty. He imagines, for a moment, winning. Smiling at Hawke, who would look at him with big eyes and congratulate him. Shaking everyone's hand, even Anders, as Fenris grins from excitement. Holding the trophy and, with a sudden burst of confidence, asking Hawke to coffee. 

Hawke agreeing, giving Fenris that beautiful, heart-stopping smile. 

Maybe winning is what Fenris needs, a sign that he can build a life away from his step-father. 

“Anders!” 

#

 _@the_great_ferelden_bake_off tweeted:_ Congratulations Anders for winning season 9!

 _@meatisachoice tweeted:_ Good for Anders! Way to show the world that veganism is superior! #TeamAnders

 _@meatismurder tweeted:_ The only way this season could have ended. #TeamAnders

 _@veganrights:_ Thank you for all the support! It was a challenging season and my competitors all did their best. But still, I'm glad that I could show everyone my skills.

 _@yestruthsteller:_ Am I the only one who thinks all the issues with ovens this season is really suspicious?? Like, I don't wanna start drama but still... shouldn't that be looked into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	7. Aftermath: Fenris & Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't believe that, almost 50k words later, we're finally here. This was supposed to be a short little fun project and now it's a long, massive, still fun project. I've honestly never had so much fun weaving a story together and it really means a lot that ya'll have stuck around and gotten this far. Fenhawke is one of my favorite ships of all time and I guess this could be a bit of a love letter to the two. After all, what's better than baking and Fenhawke? 
> 
> Short shameless self plug, but keep an eye out for more of my fics in the future. I'm going to be participating in Fenris Appreciation Month 2k18 which is in December and I have a new multi-chapter called "Coming Out Of My Grave" that should be up in December or January. 
> 
> Regardless, I wanted to shout out to my fantastic and amazing friend gothic-princess-witch for letting me talk to them about all kinds of whacky Fenhawke ideas. Thank you <3 
> 
> Also please note that there is mention of Fenris's backstory with all the accompanying angst. Nothing is described in graphic detail but it's certainly not pleasant.
> 
> Now please enjoy the last chapter of The Great Ferelden Bake Off.

Fenris gets the phone call on Tuesday. He's five minutes from lunch at his boring, dead end job, when his phone buzzes. A quick glance confirms that his boss is nowhere to be seen and it's not like he needs to worry about customers — working as a stock clerk and unloading trucks is simple like that. So he just heads to the alley and answers his phone. 

“Hello?” 

“Fenris, hey, it's Varric.” Of all the people to be calling, he doesn't expect that. “I, uh, got your number from the producers,” Varric continues. 

“Oh. That — that is fine. What can I do for you?” Fenris wonders if this is it. His residency is being questioned — so many people acted like he shouldn't be on the show, not being a Vint — and Varric is going to ask for details. Ask for papers that Fenris doesn't have. 

Varric clears his throat. “So, we were doing some cleaning and fixes to the set and it, uh, it looks like your oven was sabotaged.” 

Fenris isn't surprised, but he does feel the air leave his lungs. He feels his head spin and he has to sit down. A piece of trash tumbles through the alley. Fenris feels a disconcerting amount of sympathy for it. 

“Fenris? Are you still there?”

“Yes.” Fenris sounds like he just swallow glass. “I… what does that mean?” 

“Well, we did more investigation. Your oven's temperature sensors were all destroyed. And there was evidence of magic being used in the tent.” Varric sighs. “The official announcement is going out tomorrow, because the producers wants all of the details checked, but it looks like Anders cheated. And the judges want to name you the winner.” 

“Oh.” Fenris thinks he should feel — he should feel something. He doesn't. He is vaguely aware of his stomach rumbling. He didn't eat breakfast. He didn't have the energy. 

Varric is saying more — something about a trophy being sent, a public apology, how this shouldn't have happened — but his voice is distant. Like he's talking underwater or on the other side of a thick glass. Fenris knows he should reply, should thank Varric for the news, but he can't. 

Fenris wonders if someone is going to tell Hawke or the others. He wonders if he's going to be expected to tweet about how happy he is or how this is a surprise. He wonders what is next. 

He wonders what he's going to get for lunch. 

“You're going to get some letters in the mail, some official looking stuff, but you can call me if you have any questions okay? We didn't talk much in the tent, but you seem like a good guy. So, uh, yeah. Congratulations, Fenris.” Varric clears his throat again. “Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“No.” Fenris hesitates. “Will the others be told?” 

“You can let them know now, if you want, but we'd prefer this be kept quiet until the official announcement.” Varric laughs nervously. “Sorry about this nonsense, Fenris. For what it's worth, I thought you deserved the win.” 

“It is not your fault. Thank you for letting me know,” Fenris says. 

There's a few more minutes of platitudes — and Fenris does appreciate Varric telling him now, and not making him find out with everyone else — but then Varric does hang up. Fenris looks at his phone screen. He has fifty three minutes of his lunch break left. 

He sighs and swipes through his clocks, looking at what time it is in Lothering. Fenris added it — and the clocks for where Isabela and Sebastian live — a few weeks ago. It's not even ten am in Lothering but… maybe Hawke is awake anyways? 

Fenris pulls up Hawke's contact, his finger hovering above the Call button. A moment passes. He wonders how Hawke will react, if he'll be angry or happy or sad that he didn't win. But that's silly. Hawke has only ever wanted Fenris to succeed, only ever wanted Fenris to do well. 

Unbidden, Fenris remembers how nice it was to hold Hawke's hand.

He sighs and decides to walk to the burger joint down the street. His stomach won't stop rumbling. 

#

 _@the_great_ferelden_bake_off tweeted:_ We would like to extend our apologies to the fans and contestants. This is an unforgivable mistake and a breach of everything this show stands for. Full apology: bit.ly/ahf8g63h

 _@yestruthsteller tweeted:_ I knew something was wrong! I'm glad that it got fixed, but also fuck Anders for what he did. 

_@dagger_dagger_dagger tweeted:_ Fuck Anders and fuck anyone who is protecting him fuck that cheating bastard.

 _@belatheboozybaker tweeted:_ I'm glad that the REAL best baker of Ferelden got what he deserves. 

_@daisychain tweeted:_ I don't know why Anders cheated, but yay @applestoapples for the win!

 _@maninwhite tweeted:_ Congratulations to my close friend, @applestoapples, on the win. I am proud of you. 

_@thatoneguy tweeted:_ hey @hawkeguy how are you feeling about the news? 

_@meatismurder replied:_ he's probably a jealous bastard even though he and Fenris didn't do shit to win. Anders is still the true winner. 

_@dagger_dagger_dagger replied:_ shut the fuck up please.

#

Hawke calls Fenris on Friday. A bit late, maybe, but he kept looking at his phone and realizing he has nothing he can say. _Congratulations_ seems too forced and _So when do you want to come visit, my sister is going to Rivain on a school trip on the tenth and you could stay in her room_ might be too forward. 

Isabela thinks that he should skip the foreplay, as it were, and just text Fenris pictures of his manbits (Isabela’s words, not Hawke's). Understandably, that plan is shot down with vehement protest especially from Bethany and Sebastian. Varric, who is added to the group chat the moment the competition is over, suggests romantic poetry. Bethany, who has heard Hawke sing in the shower, does not. 

But while Hawke is many things, he isn't a coward — well, not most of the time at any rate. He knows he needs to do — to do _something_ before the competition is a distant memory and someone more wonderful and closer has caught Fenris's attention. Closer to Fenris physically and emotionally, that is. Even after all they've talked, Hawke still could count all the things he knows about Fenris on one hand. 

But Hawke isn't a coward. So he sits in his kitchen while he waits for the latest loaf of bread to finish proving and calls Fenris. 

The phone rings twice and it's the longest two second in Hawke's life. 

“James?” It's Fenris. His voice makes Hawke's heart ache, like smelling something from one's childhood when one is least expecting it. “I… is everything all right?” 

“Yeah.” Hawke's voice breaks a little. He coughs, looking at Trinket, who sits at his feet. Trinket lets out a bark and shakes his butt back and forth, about as well as he can wag his tail. “I wanted to see how you're doing. With the whole, uh, stuff coming out.” 

Hawke is certain he has never been less eloquent in his life, including that time in third grade he had to give a book report on something he hasn't even read the summary of, much less the entire 394 page novel. 

If Fenris is judging him, at least he doesn't sound like it. “Oh. Yes, I am doing well. At least, as well as one can be expected.” He chuckles and Hawke's heart skips a beat. If he were to die in this precise moment, he would go a happy man. “The Iron Bull and my other neighbors — you remember them, yeah?” 

“Mhmm.”

“They are throwing me a celebration tomorrow.” Fenris sounds almost embarrassed. “I told them they did not need to, but they insist.”

“You deserve it. You were the best baker in the tent.” Hawke means it. He doesn't think he got in by luck, but he also knows that Fenris could out bake him in his sleep. “Honestly, the finale should have been you, Sebastian, and Isabela. Don't tell Isabela that.” 

Fenris laughs again and Hawke tells himself that it's because of his stupid joke and that makes it even better. “Thank you, James. I… I am glad that you called. It is good to talk to you. Uh, not that you need to talk to me, I just—” 

“Do you want to visit?” Hawke blurts out. He swallows. He didn't mean to say that aloud. He just misses Fenris near him, misses seeing his smile, misses hearing him in person. Hawke feels too big in Lothering, too awkward. Not just physically, but emotionally. Like everyone is watching him, waiting for him to fail. But when he was in the tent with Fenris… 

Well, even though Hawke still felt like an awkward fool, he didn't feel like a failure waiting to happen. And that's saying something, considering every technically seemed design to make him, personally, suffer. 

“You don't have to. I just — you're probably busy being important or something. But after or whenever. It's quiet here, no one would bother you. Okay, maybe a few. They watched the show. But—” Hawke sighs. He is surprised Fenris hasn't hung up on him yet. “I think you'd like it here. It's quiet. Far away from all the big cities. Seriously, it's an hour drive from the airport.” 

The next five seconds are the longest five seconds of Hawke's life. 

“I… I would like that,” Fenris says. “I am supposed to be working, but perhaps we could text? When would you wish me to arrive?” 

_My sister leaves on the tenth to go on a school trip. You could stay in her room if you don't want to share a bed with me._

Hawke adjusts his grip on the phone. Suddenly he is aware of how sweaty his palms are, how fast his heart is beating. The words are on the tip of his tongue — he can practically hear them in the air. He just can't convince his mouth to move, his tongue to not twist, his words to work out. 

“Whenever,” Hawke says. 

#

 _Hawke:_ Should I make breakfast for him??? Is that too much??? 

_Hawke:_ Do you think Fenris likes bagels or muffins? Should I buy cereal? What do they eat in Tevinter? 

_Hawke:_ A quick online search has pulled up the ten most popular Tevinter breakfast foods and none of them involve bread. Send help. 

_Hawke:_ Guys what the fuck is naan and how do I make it?

 _Varric:_ It's still three am in my time zone this better be good.

 _Isabela:_ Hawke, I adore you and I still think that our solidarity against Anders's pasty ass is what brought us together, but how the fuck do you not know what naan is?

 _Bethany:_ My brother finally invited Fenris to spend a few days here and it's when I'm GONE. *angry emoji*

 _Hawke:_ Look, I'm still from Ferelden. The fact that I know anything that isn't pickled or includes turnips should be a miracle to you. 

_Varric:_ Ugh.

 _Isabela:_ Oh, I'm jealous. I miss Fenris. If you hadn't invited him over, I would have. 

_Hawke:_ Sorry, Varric. 

_Hawke:_ Not sorry, Bethy. 

_Hawke:_ But seriously, what am I supposed to do? I don't want him to be disappointed in me. I'm going to clean tomorrow. Clean! 

_Hawke:_ I never clean.

 _Bethany:_ True. 

_Varric:_ I'm going to bed but in the name of Andraste's holy ass, Hawke, please kiss him. 

_Isabela:_ Seconded! 

_Sebastian:_ I do not think Andraste would like any part of her anatomy involved in this, but I do wish you the best. 

_Sebastian:_ Also, Fenris's favorite breakfast food are apple scones. 

_Sebastian:_ Warm with grape or blueberry James on the side. 

_Sebastian:_ Jam, not James. 

_Isabela:_ *eyes emoji* 

#

Fenris arrives on the eleventh with one suitcase and a backpack. He's wearing his most comfortable pair of jeans and a T-shirt that Isabela said showed off his arms. He doesn't know what that means, but Isabela reassured him that Hawke will love it. 

The bus depot is busy, surprisingly so considering he took a late night bus. The drive was almost ten hours long and a flight would have been six, but Fenris is pretty sure he'll get detained if he tries stepping on a plane so he decided not to risk it. Besides, this way the bus can bring him all the way to Lothering.

When Fenris arrives, Hawke is already waiting. He drives an old truck, the green paint fading all along the sides. There's a mabari in the backseat, tongue sticking out of his mouth and head out of the window. Hawke is leaning against the truck, arms crossed, but he looks just as excited as Trinket when he sees Fenris step off the bus. 

It's cold here, colder than where Fenris lives, and he wishes that he had a jacket on. But it's too late now, he's already halfway to Hawke. 

A smile dances across Fenris's face. There's something nice, welcoming about being here. He’s happy to see Hawke, happy to be so close to him. He just doesn't know how to handle that. 

“Hey. Welcome to Lothering,” Hawke says. He walks the last few feet, arms outstretched. Fenris debates the merits of being hugged, but the fact that it's Hawke outweighs everything else. 

Hawke, Fenris decides, gives good hugs. 

“I'm glad you're here. How was the bus ride?” 

“Filthy. And loud. There were two men who insisted on discussing their prison sentences the entire eight hour period.” Fenris shrugs. “How far are we from your home? I am in desperate need of a shower.”

“You look great,” Hawke blurts out. He flushes and coughs and gestures back to his truck. “I — I mean, you look great considering how long you were travelling. Uh, y'know. Not that you don't ever look great, you just look — you know what, I'm going to shut up.” 

He spins on his heel and takes a solid minute to open up his car door. Fenris resolutely does not comment on it. He smiles a little wider when Hawke steps aside, the door open for him. 

“Just throw your stuff in the back. Trinket might drool on it, but he's harmless.” 

Trinket barks and indeed slobbers all over Fenris's hand when he goes to pet him. Fenris chuckles and scratches Trinket behind the ear. He's surprised that Trinket recognizes him, or maybe Trinket is just friendly to everyone. Fenris isn't sure. He doesn't mind though. He's glad that Trinket isn't cowed by the cat hair inevitably all over him. 

Hawke, Fenris notices, has the goofiest grin on his face when he gets into the driver's seat. 

“So I live, like, an hour away but we can also grab some food? Just to go, we don't have to sit anywhere. It might, uh, it might make it better to survive a one hour drive.” Hawke runs a hand through his ponytail. His fingers snag on a tangle and he frowns. 

Before he can think about it, Fenris reaches over and fixes it. His hand freezes about halfway, brain catching up to his actions. Hawke stares at Fenris, brown eyes wide. Fenris is reminded of warm chocolate, of rich earth after a spring rain, of a cup of coffee on cold days. 

“Sorry…” Fenris trails off. He doesn't withdraw his hand. 

“It's fine.” Hawke clears his throat and turns away. He starts the truck and Trinket sticks his head between them, completely shattering the moment. 

Fenris convinces himself, on the drive, that it was the right idea not to ask if he could kiss Hawke. He is already pushing his luck as it is.

#

They end up watching a movie that night. It's some stupid action Western with too many explosions and not enough plot but it's enjoyable enough. Hawke and Fenris sit close to one another, not quite touching but not not touching either. Trinket is at Hawke's feet, chewing on his rope bone and occasionally looking up at the louder scenes. 

The movie is, objectively, not good. It has a plot that's trope and the characters are forgettable. The action isn't even that well done, too much special effects and no reason to care. 

But Fenris is close enough to see James's eyes widen when the hero kisses the girl and Fenris is close enough to hear James gasp when the hero sacrifices himself to save everyone and Fenris is gentle enough to reach out and wrap his hand around James's hand when the credits start rolling. 

He is kind enough not to laugh at Hawke when he starts enthusing about what a good movie that was, how it is an absolute classic it is. 

“The original was good too, but this — this is really something special.” Hawke grins at Fenris. His hand is hot under Fenris's palm. “Thanks for watching it with me. I know it's probably not what you usually watch…” 

“And what do you think I usually watch?” Fenris asks. He's genuinely curious as to what impression Hawke has of him. Despite his best efforts, Sebastian has been rather tight-lipped about what Hawke has or hasn't said about him. 

Hawke shrugs. His smile starts to fade. “You just seem too good for stupid movies. Like, you should be watching some documentary about history or food or wine.” He tugs at his ponytail. “I just appreciate you sitting through one of my movies. You can pick next time. If, uh, you aren't sick of me.” 

“Well, I am supposed to be here another three days. I certainly hope I am not sick of you by then.” Fenris flashes Hawke a small, tentative smile. 

It seems to be the right move because Hawke's lips twist up again and, in that moment, all is right with the world. 

#

They go to lunch the next day. Breakfast is homemade apple scones with fresh grape jam, both of which Hawke made the day previous with frantically trying to make the flat presentable for a very important guest. He thought that just having Fenris in his home, sitting on his couch and eating at his table and petting his dog, was going to be difficult. Hawke had no idea the heart attack that he would get upon seeing Fenris yawning in his kitchen, that beautiful silver hair a tangled mess, clad in sweats and a T-shirt. 

Hawke was glad that he had the excuse of opening the jam to avoid having to look at Fenris any longer, because his self-control was already thin as a thread. 

So going out to lunch is a much better idea. Hawke can breathe fresh air and show Fenris around his hometown without the threat of spontaneous combustion. They take Trinket, of course, his leash wrapped tight in Hawke's hand. 

Lothering is a small place, the kind of town where everyone knew Hawke before he got all famous for his baking. He waves to at least a dozen people just on the way to downtown, which he and Fenris walk to, because it's a ten minute drive but Hawke will never turn down spending more time with Fenris. And if Fenris is disturbed by the amount of people who call him by his name, or tell him that they're happy he won the bake off, then he doesn't show it. 

“This is my favorite cafe,” Hawke explains. He holds the door open for Fenris and follows behind. No one bats an eye at Trinket, who actually goes over to another dog to sniff their butt. “Oh, Trinket. Making friends already, huh boy?” 

Fenris stifles a laugh. Hawke beams at him.

“Get whatever you want, I'm paying,” he insists. 

“Oh, I — you already are allowing me to stay in your home. You do not need to—” 

“Fenris, it's fine, really. I'm a bit of a local hero anyways.” Indeed, Hawke is treated by name and the cashier excitedly points out a sign the cafe has added to the display case. 

_Pastries approved by James Hawke, finalist on GFBO!_

It’s handwritten, pink text on a black chalkboard. There's also a little doodle of a mabari, which seems to be largely because this is Ferelden and mabari are a cultural standpoint. The sign makes Hawke's heart swell. 

He tries not to dwell, realizing the line behind him doesn't care about any TV show. “I'll have a roast beef sandwich with chips. And a lemonade to drink. Also, throw in one of your chocolate chip muffins. Fenris?” Hawke turns towards his companion. 

“I will have the soup of the day with a half sandwich. And a cup of hot chocolate.” Fenris sticks his hands further into his pockets. “It is unseasonably cold.” 

“Welcome to small town Ferelden,” Hawke quipped. “Less people means less body heat to warm the streets.” 

Fenris rolls his eyes and accepts his hot chocolate with a grateful smile. 

Regardless of Fenris's concerns, they sit outside so Trinket can bark at passing cars and try to chase birds. Hawke keeps a tight grip on his leash and Trinket is well trained, so he doesn't actually run off, but it still gets hairy at one point when Hawke is trying to be entertaining and waving his hands in the air and almost let's go. 

The food is, of course, excellent. Hawke is the first person to make fun of Ferelden cooking but there really isn't anything better than a stick-on-your-ribs meal. Fenris seems to enjoy it too, or at the very least eats everything in front of him. And he gives Hawke these small, soft looks whenever he sips his hot chocolate. They make Hawke's heart skip a beat. 

Everything Fenris does makes Hawke's heart skip. 

“Do you eat out often?” Fenris asks, his empty plate pushed aside. The two could leave, but they're enjoying the relative comfort of the patio warmers and each other's company too much. 

“Not really. It's a special treat. Since I'm technically unemployed.” Hawke adjusts his ponytail. His hair is getting a bit long. He really should cut it, but that would take effort. 

Also money. 

Maker, he hopes Fenris doesn't think he's a useless lump. 

“I mean, I do work at the bakery but I've been so busy with the show that I didn't have a lot of free time. Now I'm supposed to actually work again.” He laughs. Fenris smiles. “What about you? What do you do when you aren't winning national competitions?” 

“Dance,” Fenris deadpans. Hawke raises an eyebrow, lips twitching upwards. “I did dance when I was younger. But now I simply read. There is a library close to my apartment.” 

Hawke, not for the first time, thinks that Fenris couldn't be any more perfect. 

“I can't even imagine young Fenris. Did you always have the silver hair?” 

Fenris seems to shrink, eyes closing off and his mouth becoming a thin line. 

“Ah…. No, that is a more recent development.” He doesn't say anything else and Hawke decides that he can poke that hornet's nest later. 

Instead, he gestures to a store across the street. They advertise themselves as a curio shop, the kind of place that sells postcards and weird magnets and little trinkets that kids love. There's a small bustle of people walking in and out. 

“My brother, Carver, loved this soda they sell. It's old fashion, so too bitter and weird for me, but he would beg our mom and dad to buy him one every time we were in the area.” Hawke sighs. “My sister insists on buying a pack for him every Satinalia.” 

“What do you do with it?” Fenris asks. 

“I think she drinks it as a form of self-destruction, if I'm being honest.” Hawke chuckles and stands, stretching his arms wide. Trinket stands up, shaking his butt out of happiness. “Do you want to visit it? It's the epitome of Lothering.” 

Fenris smiles, standing up and holding his hand out for Hawke. For a terrifying second, Hawke thinks that he still has mustard on his fingers. He quickly debates the merits of wiping his hand on his pants and decides to take the risk. He puts his hand in Fenris's and, thankfully, it is mustard clean. 

“Lead the way, James.” 

Hawke avoids tripping over his own two feet long enough to almost run into a streetlamp. Fenris pulls him back with seconds to spare. After catching his breath, Hawke shoots Fenris a smile. 

“Is there anything you can't do?” He asks. Fenris snorts and keeps walking. He doesn't let go of Hawke's hand. 

#

 _Sebastian:_ How are you enjoying Lothering? 

_Fenris:_ It is cold and there are a lot of dogs. *snowflake emoji* *dog emoji* 

_Fenris:_ I do not why I am surprised, but yet… I am surprised. 

_Sebastian:_ And how is Hawke's?

 _Fenris:_ Very… Hawke. *bread emoji* 

_Fenris:_ I am sleeping in his sister's room since she is gone. It is odd, but Bethany was very kind and left me a letter. 

_Sebastian:_ Are you enjoying yourself? 

_Fenris:_ I am enjoying myself. *smiling emoji* 

_Fenris:_ I like it here. It is very quiet and small compared to my home, but in a good way. And Hawke is here. *bread emoji* *plus emoji* *moon emoji*

 _Sebastian:_ Do you think you would move? Or just visit? You live quite far… 

_Fenris:_ *shrug emoji* 

_Sebastian:_ Hm, I suppose you do have time. Regardless, I am glad that you are enjoying yourself. 

_Sebastian:_ You deserve happiness. 

_Fenris:_ Thank you, my friend. 

_Fenris:_ Hawke makes me happy. Very much so. We went shopping for groceries for dinner. It was very nice. 

_Sebastian:_ How very domestic *house emoji*

 _Fenris:_ *blushing emoji*

 _Sebastian:_ *star emoji* *thumbs up emoji* 

_Fenris:_ *smiling emoji* 

#

Fenris has a nightmare that night. He falls asleep after an hour or two of tossing and turning. Bethany was so kind of allow him to fall asleep in her room, but he has trouble feeling comfortable in a stranger's bed — even when that stranger is Bethany Hawke. 

When he does get his body to relax and his eyes to close, to stop picturing evil in the shadows, his brain decides to transport him elsewhere. He finds himself in a familiar office, smaller in stature than he is now, looking up at an older man with greying hair. The man is hunched over his desk. He doesn't look at Fenris. 

There's a pen scratching on paper and a clock ticking in the corner but other than that the room is silent. Fenris barely breathes. He is sore and anxious and scared. No, he's terrified. His body still stings from the last time the man decided to turn his displeasure into physical force, into magical attacks. Fenris wants to run away, but he knows that's what the man wants. 

Danarius always did like making Fenris think that it was his fault he was abused. 

The dream shifts. Fenris finds himself in bed. His bed. Not in his shitty little Ferelden apartment with cat hair all over it, but back in Tevinter. It is small, almost too small for him to fit, with a single pillow and a thin blanket. He curls up underneath the blanket, whimpering to himself. 

This isn't a nightmare, the logical part of Fenris's brain helpfully explains. It's a memory. 

He can hear footsteps down the hall and he knows what happens next. He knows what happens when Danarius is upset and when Fenris is in bed. Varania is sound asleep in her room, content to know that she'll never bare the full brunt of Danarius's perversions. Hadriana is off on some business trip. Fenris can hardly remember his mother's name. 

The door opens and Danarius steps inside. Fenris is trembling but he squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe if Danarius thinks he's asleep then he won't hurt Fenris. Maybe it'll be enough to grant him one night's reprieve. 

It isn't. 

Fenris jolts awake as a large hand touches his shoulder. He lashes out, barely aware of where he is until his vision focuses. He's in Bethany's room. He's safe, Danarius isn't anywhere close to him. And he just punched James Hawke in the face. 

Hawke has the most concerned expression, not even bothered that his jaw is certain to bruise. “You're safe, Fenris. It's only me. I'm sorry for waking you up, but you were having a nightmare. I could hear you down the hall.” 

Guilt slams into Fenris, threatening to drown him like an errant wave at the beach. He nods fully, curling hands into fists against the bed sheets. He's soaked in sweat. 

“Hey, talk to me?” Hawke steps forward, hovering at the edge of the bed. Fenris tenses but Hawke makes no attempt to touch him. “You don't need to tell me what it was, but I don't think you should be alone right now.” 

There's a moment as Fenris tries to picture it. Are they just going to sit in silence? Is Hawke going to keep standing or sit at Bethany's desk, because Fenris knows he cannot tolerate another human with him in bed now. Before he can come up with any answers, he hears the jingle of metal on metal and the soft pitter-patter of paws on carpet. 

Trinket walks into the room, those big brown eyes focused on Fenris. Trinket barks and jumps up on the bed, going to sit next to Fenris and resting his head in Fenris's lap. Hawke goes to pull Trinket away but Fenris starts absentmindedly petting Trinket. 

“He's a good friend,” Fenris murmurs. He doesn't look at Hawke. “My apologies for disturbing you. You can go back to sleep, if you wish.” 

“I'm good.” Hawke does go to sit at Bethany's desk. There's a board full of pictures tacked up against the wall. Fenris felt guilty looking at them before, as if this is some part of Bethany's life he doesn't deserve to see. Hawke has no such reservations, skimming over the photos in an attempt to give Fenris a moment of privacy. 

Taking advantage of it, Fenris examines the palms of his hands. There are neat crescent moon indents from his nails, but thankfully he did not draw blood this time. Fenris feels a bit of reassurance that maybe the nightmare wasn't too bad — it certainly wasn't the worst he's ever had — and leans back against the mountain of pillows he created. One hand continues to play with Trinket's fur. Maker bless him but Trinket is perfectly still, the only movement his chest as he breathes. 

“You know, I was in jail for a few years.” Hawke seems more surprised than Fenris that he’s speaking. But, true to his nature, Hawke continues. “My dad died when I was young. Like, I was thirteen and he died from a freak accident at his job.”

“I am sorry to hear that.” Fenris can't remember Hawke ever speaking of his father. He wonders if this is why. 

Hawke shrugs. “It happened. My family needed me — the twins were just turning eleven — and instead I ran off. I got tangled up in a lot of petty crime. My mom would drag me home and yell at me and I'd promise to stop but…” He sighed. “I'd just go out and do it again.” 

For a moment, Fenris tries to picture Hawke as a teenager. Thinner and shorter, not yet grown into his limbs. Was his hair always long? Did he always have a chipped tooth or was that too a product of his teenage years? 

“Anyways, I got arrested a lot for shit that I did and I finally got sent to juvie when I was sixteen. I should have been tried as an adult since I was almost seventeen and I had a list of priors longer than my arm, but my mom pleaded with the judge so…” 

“How long were you in jail?” Fenris can't really imagine the light-hearted and friendly Hawke as a prisoner. Then again, most people wouldn't suspect that Fenris is actually on the run from a sadistic and abusive stepfather who used him so thoroughly that Hawke is the first person Fenris has ever thought he could love. 

“Just over two years. I got released on parole and my mom sat me down and said I either reformed or I would never see my siblings again. And I missed Bethany's first debate tournament and I missed Carver's first high school football game and—” Hawke lets out another sigh. His entire body seems to heave with the effort. “I didn't want to miss anything else. I might have only been in jail two years but I was already absent from their lives for so long before that.” 

“Bethany still loves you,” Fenris pointed out. 

“Yeah. She shouldn't, but… Carver's death made us realize that we need to stop taking our time for granted. It's not guaranteed. Nothing is.” Hawke glances at Fenris. “I know a thing or two about nightmares. Maybe they're nothing like what you have — and you never need to tell me anything you don't want — but I'm here for you, Fenris.” 

The words stick in Fenris's throat. His tongue is made of lead. He nods and looks down at Trinket, who has fallen asleep. Unbidden, a small smile appears on Fenris's face. He doesn't notice but Hawke, who is already so in love that everything else is secondary, falls in love a little bit more. 

#

They go to the bakery in the morning. Hawke is jumping up and down out of excitement, and that's not entirely figurative either. He actually has trouble driving there, to the point of missing the turn because he's babbling about the time Carver ran through the entire bakery with a freshly baked baguette before running into a cleaned window and knocking himself the fuck out. 

Fenris laughs. He can almost forget the feeling of hands crawling on his skin and hot breath curling against his ear. Neither he nor Hawke talk about it. Fenris is thankful for that. 

The bakery is small, a glass counter displaying any number of goods. There is someone helping a few customers and she smiles at Hawke when he enters. The majority of the space in the front is taken up by two precarious wooden tables and the counter but the back is broader, a spacious if older kitchen. 

Hawke leads him in without worry, which Fenris supposes makes sense considering his family owns the place. He keeps pointing out little things, blemishes on the wall from baking mishaps or other childhood endeavors. Fenris can just imagine Hawke and his siblings scurrying around, getting underfoot and bothering his father as he actually gets work done. 

“I lived here more than I lived at home,” Hawke admits. “And I hated baking for a while. It was boring and nobody thought a guy who bakes was hot.” He laughs. Fenris resists the urge to say otherwise. 

He watches as Hawke goes to one of the large fridges and starts pulling out ingredients. It occurs to Fenris, rather belatedly, that Hawke may actually want them to bake something. Then, as sudden a realization as any Fenris had in the tent, Fenris decides that he would enjoy staying here and baking with Hawke.

In fact, Fenris would enjoy doing nothing more than baking and sleeping in Hawke's home for as long as Hawke allows. 

It is this realization that leads to another, more depressing one. That is, of course, that no matter how happy Hawke appears it is only a matter of time before Hawke bores of him. Or worse, before Hawke knows how fucked in the head Fenris is. 

It is because of that knowledge that Fenris sits Hawke down, while the bread is proving, and tells him that they need to talk. 

“If It's about last night, you don't need—” 

“I do not need to tell you anything. But I want to because…” _I care for you. I want you to know who I am. Even if you will think me disgusting._

“Fenris.” Hawke reaches out, opens a hand up for Fenris to hold if he wants. The kitchen is empty besides the two of them. “You do not owe me anything.” 

The weight of his words cannot be missed. Fenris licks his lips and nods. He gingerly reaches out and takes Hawke's hand. Hawke is warm, his hands soft. Fenris likes this far more than when they were in the tent. This is — private. Intimate. Kind. 

It reaffirms why Fenris has to do this. 

“I am not who you think I am,” Fenris says. 

“Oh? Is your name not actually Fenris? Are you from Orlais?” 

“This is not a joke, James.” 

“And I'm not joking, Fenris. You're my — my friend. And unless you've been lying to me about enjoying my company and wanting to be here, then I don't care. But… if this is something that you need to tell me because you want to, not because you think you're lying or deceiving me, then okay.” 

Fenris leans forward. He tightens his grip on Hawke's hand. Then he tells Hawke everything.

“I did not come here for an education. I came here to escape my step-father, a man named Danarius. He… He used his power over me to force me to obey him. To do anything he wanted. Otherwise he would hurt my mother and my sister. He… He would do things to me that no child should have to do. And he made me believe it was for my own good, that he was helping me. I thanked him for hurting me. I knew no better.

“When I graduated high school, he ordered me not to go to college. I obeyed. I stayed behind and worked for him like a servant. Like a slave. My mother did not teach me how to bake, Danarius did. He ordered me to cook and clean for him and I obeyed. And when he ordered me to submit to his magical fancies, I obeyed. For… For most of my life, I have been little more than his thrall. 

“But one day, while I was getting groceries for the night’s meal, I encountered a group of people raising money for a charity. They claimed they were working to help end domestic violence and abuse. And I… I stopped and spoke with them. For the first time in so long, I was able to speak to someone else and felt like they were actually listening. One of them gave me a phone number and, with their help, I was able to secure enough funds to escape Danarius.

“I came to Ferelden because it’s the last place Danarius will ever look for me. I got on a ship that took to me Rivain and then I hitch-hiked to the Free Marches and then I took another ship to Ferelden.” Fenris pulls his hand away. “I am not a citizen of Ferelden. I am not even here legally.”

A moment of silence passes. Fenris is waiting for Hawke to grow disgusted or betrayed, for Hawke to get angry and order him to leave. Instead, the timer goes off letting the two of them know the bread has finished proving. Fenris flinches. Hawke stands up and grabs the bread out of the proving drawer.

“Do you want one loaf or two?” He asks. 

“What?” 

“Do you think we should make one big loaf or two, smaller loaves? I think two would be nice. I could save one for Bethy when she gets back.” Hawke drops his head for a second before looking back at Fenris. “I meant it, Fenris. It doesn’t matter to me. But I promise you this.” His brown eyes darken. “If Danarius ever, and I mean ever comes for you again, I will kill him.” He smiles. “Now, I’m going to stick this bread in the oven and then I’m going to show you why I brought you here.”

In the end, it’s a very Hawke thing to say and in the end, Fenris feels better that this is how Hawke reacted. It doesn’t matter, to Hawke, that Fenris is scared of things that go bump in the dark. It doesn’t matter that Fenris shouldn’t even be in Ferelden legally. It doesn’t matter because, Fenris assumes, Hawke likes him.

He’s just not sure if he’s reading too far into it when he looks into Hawke’s eyes and sees affection and love, not just friendship.

The thing that Hawke brought Fenris to the bakery for is not, as Fenris originally assumed, a baked good. It’s actually an old recipe book that sits in a back office. Hawke has a key to get inside and he pulls it out gingerly. 

“This is the Hawke family recipe book.” He flips through it, pointing out recipes that he used on the show or personal favorites. He gets about halfway before stopping. In the middle is a picture of the Hawke family. 

It’s old, just like the book. James is maybe seven or eight, messy brown hair hiding most of his face while his big grin is missing the bottom two teeth. The twins are standing on either side of him. Carver is actually shorter than Bethany. He’s scowling up at the camera, arms crossed. His hair is clearly supposed to be the same as James’s, but James has more of it. Bethany has her hands behind her and is probably the happiest of the three, though that isn’t to say that James looks unhappy. Bethany just radiates a sort of charm, even through a picture. 

The parents, Fenris notes, are very distinct from their children. Bethany seems to have gotten her looks from Leandra while James and Carver look more like their father. Malcolm is a tall man, one hand on Leandra’s shoulder and the other on James’s. If Fenris had to describe his expression, he would say proud. Content. 

Behind the Hawkes is the bakery. A banner reading now open stretches along the top. 

“It was my dad’s dream to see his three kids grow up and work at the bakery. He worked here most of the time but he… he still did construction work on the side. It’s how he could afford to keep the bakery, even when it wasn’t doing well. And when he died our neighbors pitched in to help us keep the place, but…” James laughs. “You know, I signed up for the competition because I thought it would be good publicity. They almost denied me as too professional, but I haven’t worked in this kitchen in years.”

He sets the picture back in the recipe book. “I hated it here, as a kid. Now? I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever leave, not unless Bethany changes her mind and decides to take over. But I can’t let the bakery fail either. Do you know what I mean?” 

Fenris thinks he does. He imagines waking up in the small flat with Hawke, Trinket running around at his feet, every morning. He imagines baking bread and biscuits and muffins and who knows what else for the rest of his life. He imagines reaching up, taking Hawke’s face in his hands, and kissing him.

Instead he just nods. “Yes, I do.” 

#

Fenris leaves on a Sunday. He eats breakfast at Hawke’s kitchen and they both pile into his truck with plenty of time to spare. Trinket, naturally, is in the back seat alongside Fenris's bag. 

“It sucks that you can't see Bethany,” Hawke says. “You sure that you can't stay longer?” He asks, as if they hadn't already stolen a long weekend together as it is. 

Fenris promises that he'll be back soon, invites Hawke to see him, but they both know that it's wishful thinking. Fenris loves in a shoebox and cannot just take time off for no reason. He's pushing his luck as it is. There have been a few offers from local bakeries to work for them, but nothing that can grant him a work visa. Nothing that can protect him from Danarius or deportation. 

They make it to the bus station with plenty of time to spare. Hawke insists on remaining, though Fenris promises that he'll be fine. 

“I want to spend the time with you. Trinket is fine in the truck,” Hawke says. Fenris supposes he can't argue with that. 

The two find a place to sit in the station and talk about nothing. There's so much that Fenris wants to say and not enough time and besides. If Hawke hasn't said anything about wanting to be together as — as more than friends, then why should Fenris presume to think that such a wish exists? 

Fenris is not selfish enough to force Hawke into liking him. And if Hawke does like him but doesn't want to say anything, well, that's his own choice too. 

It doesn't occur to Fenris that Hawke could be waiting to respect Fenris's boundaries, to never want to push Fenris into something he doesn't want. 

Hawke sits and talks with Fenris and it takes every ounce of control not to ask Fenris to stay forever. Not in a marriage sense — funnily enough Hawke doesn't think he'll ever be ready for marriage — but in a deeper sense. Fenris can stay with Hawke as long as he wants. It's his choice. Hawke would never make him stay. 

Eventually, though, the bus is called and it's time to go. Hawke has to stand up and pretend that the first person he's ever loved isn't walking away. 

Before, of course, he gives Fenris a long hug. “You can always come back. You're welcome here as long as I'm alive. And I know Bethany loves you and my mom — well, she doesn't have to ever meet you if you don't want.” 

Fenris hugs back and makes Hawke's heart explode with his cautious, lovely smile. “Thank you, James. I really have enjoyed staying here. And thank you for the scones.” As a parting gift, Hawke had given Fenris the remaining apple scones. He doesn't regret a thing, not after seeing how happy they made Fenris. 

“Yeah, well, next time we'll have to make some together,” Hawke comments. 

“I’d like that,” Fenris replies. He glanced over at the bus. “I… I need to go.” He doesn't move. 

“Yeah.” Hawke doesn't make any move to push Fenris away. They aren't hugging still, not exactly, but they're still close enough that Hawke can see every shade of green in Fenris's lovely eyes. “Text me when you're home?” 

“I will send you a video of Felis crying because he missed me,” Fenris says, referencing his clingy cat. 

“I'll show Trinket and let you know what he thinks.” Hawke smiles. Fenris hugs him once more before fleeing onto his bus. He doesn't look back. 

Hawke waits for the bus to pull away. He imagines, if he were a hero in one of Varric's novels, that he'd hop into his car and chase after the bus. He'd have a heartfelt confession and everyone on the bus would cheer and he and Fenris would kiss before going back to Lothering and living together forever. 

Or maybe he'd just run after the bus and Fenris would spot him and the bus would stop. Fenris would run off and meet Hawke in the middle of the road and confess that he feels the same way, that not being with Hawke is like living without a purpose. They'd kiss, go back, and have a happy ending. 

But James Hawke is a reformed thief with chronic depression who sometimes bakes and dreams about being a better man. He is not a hero. So instead he goes to his car and cries. 

Trinket rests his muzzle on Hawke's shoulder and licks his ear. Somehow that just makes Hawke cry more. 

On the bus, Fenris feels like shit. No, that's a simple way of putting it. He feels like someone just ran over his cat with their car and is blaming him for a chip in their paint. He feels like someone tore his chest open and replaced his heart with a faulty clock. 

He feels like when he lost the competition and had to pretend to be happy for Anders. 

He feels completely and utterly miserable. The last few days have been some of the happiest in his wretched life and he's not an idiot. He knows Hawke is the reason for that happiness. He knows that Hawke either likes him romantically or is the most affectionate and friendly man on Thedas. He knows that the only thing back home is his cat and his handful of friends. The cat can move with him and he can text his friends. 

Hawke is not leaving Lothering. Fenris is. 

When he stands up, he feels like he's on autopilot. He grabs his bag, asks the bus driver to stop, and kindly informs him that he's on the wrong bus and will walk back. He gets his suitcase from the storage and walks the fifteen minutes back to the station. Each minute he comes up with a million reasons why this is a horrible, horrible idea. 

Hawke will be so furious when he has to turn around and pick Fenris up. Hawke won't want Fenris to stay. Fenris is going to need to find a job, an apartment, because he can't sleep in Bethany's room forever. And Felis is too picky, he won't want to live with Trinket. Plus, Hawke is going to get bored of Fenris eventually. They're going to stop being friends and then Fenris is going to have to move back to his shitty apartment but with even less. 

_You don't even have any savings,_ he thinks. _I don't care._

The last thing Fenris expects to see in the parking lot is Hawke's beat up pickup truck. He thinks that he's imagining it, except Trinket spots him and starts barking. 

Hawke looks up. He's been crying. 

“Fenris?” He says. He clambers out of the truck, stepping towards Fenris but not touching him. “What are you—” 

“I hate Ferelden. I hate the cold. I hate most of the food. I hate that everyone is so tall and that ninety percent of social activities involve disgusting alcohol that smells like it was brewed in a barn.”

“It probably was.” Hawke cracks a smile. Fenris chuckles before remembering his point. 

“I think, every day, about how my life would be different if I was still in Tevinter. And for a few years, I thought about returning even if it meant Danarius found me. I signed up for the bake off on a stupid gamble. I thought that I might get a job offer. I never imagined I would make friends. I never imagined I would meet you.” 

Hawke's expression is soft. Fragile. Hopeful. Fenris hopes that he can deserve this amount of trust and vulnerability. That he won't just hurt Hawke. He never wants to hurt Hawke. 

“I don't want to leave, James. I don't want to leave Lothering if that means leaving you behind too.” 

“Fenris…” Hawke swallows. He steps forward. He gently reaches under Fenris's chin and tilts it up. The two of them kiss. 

It is truly, truly magical. 

“You are welcome here as long as you want,” Hawke promises. “Anything you want, it's yours.” He flushes and shyly looks at Fenris. “Will you… will you go on a date with me, tomorrow?” 

“I would love that,” Fenris replies. 

On a Sunday, Fenris and Hawke live happily ever after.


End file.
